There’s a quote I’ve been sitting with. from author Michael Bassey Johnson. I don’t know him. But I was looking for a way to articulate my thoughts.

“Treat borrowed ideas as borrowed ideas; for making them your own makes you a thief.”

I shared it this week on my IG and someone pushed back thoughtfully: as a creative, how do you actually draw the line? How do you take inspiration from existing work without crossing into something more problematic? That balance seems tough.

It is. But I think what’s making it tougher right now isn’t the old question of copying. It’s something newer, and worth looking into.

The conversation around copying in creative culture has always had two schools of thought. One says go for it, nothing is truly owned, everything is remix, culture moves by collective borrowing. T.S. Eliot (who I do know) put it plainly in The Sacred Wood (1920):

“Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different.”

Jim Jarmusch said much the same in MovieMaker Magazine(2004):

“Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent.”

I guess he was saying more than simply go ahead and steal, his point was about where you look, and whether what you take speaks directly to your soul. The theft only works if it’s honest. (Can it ever be honest?)

The other side believes in fiercely protecting the idea, that what you build belongs to you, that the act of creation carries its own integrity and deserves respect.

I’ve always sat somewhere between them, well more on the protecting your ideas at all cost and letting others have ownership of theirs. But lately I’ve been thinking that both arguments were formed in a world that no longer quite exists.

What’s changed is how we see.

We are all, to varying degrees, looking at the same digital feeds. The same algorithm serving the same references to the same small world of people. And what that produces isn’t conscious copying, it’s something stranger and harder to name. A closed-loop visual culture where the primary source of inspiration is other recent work, often from within the same immediate circle. Where a mood board is built not from books or films or lived experience but from hitting that ‘save’ button on IG or quick screenshot of things made last month by people you know.

This isn’t laziness in the traditional sense, but more so a lack of effort or craft. The work itself might be technically accomplished, and it might tick the boxes for the brand you have been paid by. The laziness is upstream of the work. It’s a failure to look further, to think wider, to ask the simple question: what else is out there? What haven’t I seen yet? Has someone close to me just done something like this?

The result is a kind of creative* ecosystem that feeds on itself. Ideas that were once allowed to breathe, to exist, find their audience, influence slowly, are now absorbed and reproduced almost immediately. Not out of malice. But without much awareness either.

*I wouldn’t really call it creative btw.

There’s also something being lost around attribution, the practice of acknowledging where things came from.

It costs nothing to say: this was inspired by, this grew from, respect to this person for building something like this. That gesture isn’t weakness. It doesn’t diminish the work. It actually keeps the lineage of ideas visible. It shows you know where you are in the chain of things. It treats creativity as the long conversation it actually is, rather than a series of isolated original acts.

When that practice disappears, something subtle shifts. Not just for the person whose work goes unacknowledged, but for the culture itself. The references collapse. The conversation loses its thread.

In my earlier years, trying to find my way, I’d sometimes attempt to shoot in another photographer’s style, just to understand what I liked or didn’t like about it, to feel the difference between their instincts and mine. I’d treat it as a private experiment, keep it to myself, never show it. It wasn’t worth showing. It wasn’t mine. But it taught me something about my own work and where to take it.

Richard Serra, as another example, was one of all time favourite artists. His work in sculpture truly captures me in ways I cannot explain. His work would be instantly recognised if it was copied. And in no world I am ever going to attempt to become a sculptor and build something like he did. However, there are snippets of his thinking, his process, and ways of being and seeing that have left lasting affects on me that help me towards the ideas that well up in me.

The distinction between influence and copying isn’t always clean, and I don’t think anyone who’s done creative work seriously would claim otherwise. Similar experiences, similar worlds, some overlap is real and inevitable. But I do believe you know the difference when you’re inside it. You know when you’ve gone looking in the world for something, and you know when you’ve pulled directly from someone. That instinct is worth trusting, or at least not hiding away from.

The things that have shaped how I see and work didn’t come from a feed. They come from films and books and galleries and conversations. From spending time with people I admire. From going somewhere I hadn’t been. From looking at things that had nothing to do with the areas I work in and finding something in them anyway. For me it’s been two active decades of focused thinking, making, experimenting and absorbing a particular world.

I was asked once about what makes you a professional photographer. I find those two words sit strangely, but here we are. For me, it means I can get to the better images quicker. Many years ago, it would take me to the end of a shoot to really find a groove. Now I can cut out the fluff and find what I’m looking for faster. It goes the same for other creative work, the people I know, the collaborators, the right medium for the idea. I can get there quicker, because that focus is tuned, and constantly being tuned.

That thinking and experience is slower in the sense that it’s built up over years. It doesn’t show up as a reference image you can drop into a deck. But it accumulates. And it produces work that could only have come from you, because the inputs were genuinely yours.

The question worth sitting with, I think, is not whether copying is right or wrong. It’s whether the way we’re currently feeding our creative practice is actually feeding it at all, or whether we’ve quietly mistaken consumption for inspiration, and the algorithm for the world.

“It’s not where you take things from, it’s where you take them to.”, Jean-Luc Godard.

Thanks for reading.

Until the next time I wake up at 6.30am with enough thinking to write it all down.

For anyone new here. You can see sporadic new work at @benclement_ or @goodsport_magazine

A quick note before you dive in, I’d like to say thank you for the support in my pursuits and ambitions. Whether inadvertently or intentionally, that support is always felt and carried. For me making work is not just for me to keep to myself. It’s about sharing it with people, whether in the making of the work, or the showcasing of the work. It’s always about people and how we feel, react and connect to things. So thank you.

Ben Clement on Running, Photography, and Erniold

A conversation with Logan John Buchcanan

Logan: Tell me about Erniold and how you found yourself growing with it?

Ben: My journey with the brand was right near its beginning. I’d already been on this journey for a number of years of documenting and visualizing and photographing running. A big chunk of that was when I was in Amsterdam too. I think that’s where I really dove further into the layers, when I was in Europe.

Coming back to Melbourne, I’d met Simon and Xavier briefly before they launched the brand. Shortly after, they reached out and asked me to shoot the first campaign. It was such perfect timing for me.

I liked initially the equal parts traditional approach to running and wanting to bring a conceptual or thematic element to the work.. I have very vivid memories of shooting the first campaign because it was bloody freezing out in Macedon. I was trying new techniques with a new camera and had a small team. Everything kind of landed, the light was amazing and so on and so forth. It just was one of those very pure kinds of moments.

I have the feeling this is a true thing I said to myself, it would be really cool to work with a brand like this long term to really develop who they are. I don’t think it was ever spoken outloud, they just kept hiring me. I say that in the most basic of terms, we became friends and we started connecting and we had a lot of similarities in our ideas and approach and sentiments about running. So I think there was a natural fit from the get-go. It’s always been exciting. It feels cool to have a home for my work beyond my own.

Logan: That’s definitely something that I see when I look at Erniold. There’s definitely deep consideration and what stays in mind is the Melbourne stuff. Could you see it expanding to different pockets of the world?

Ben: There is this global recognition that’s starting to grow for the brand. Naturally, I think there will be things that will start to be made visually or through photography and film in other countries.

I think it’s important and a value that I really respect, having that identity be really solidly from Melbourne. I think it provides a unique perspective on the world coming from here. I think it allows it, on a global scale, as a city, to have a unique point of view compared to maybe some other running brands where, how do I say this ‘the petrol is soaked in the rag’ in terms of it’s so saturated and potent, which is not always a good thing.

Logan: Yeah, I hear you. What do you want to bake into Erniold? If a year from now somebody was buying a piece of Erniold, what would you want them to take away from the brand visually, beyond the product itself?

Ben: When it comes to any brand, I care about quality: product, design, the practical functions of things, and the ethics of making things. So I have deep considerations and care for those things.

I could actually argue those same values over the visual things. If it’s tomorrow or a year from now, if someone’s looking at something, whether it’s a film we make or a series of photos or a campaign or something one-off, they would see and feel consideration. There would be a sense of traditionalism while letting go of things that don’t serve the tradition and having room for conceptual ideas. I think if someone can sense or feel that there is care and consideration in it and that it’s not screaming at them or yelling, it’s having a conversation with them through the work, through the imagery.

In our age of slop & sloppy images everywhere, I still believe that good or careful work still speaks volumes. It’ll stand the test of time, whether it’s with a pair of running shorts or the images.

On ‘Classicness’ and Timeless Work

Logan: We keep talking about time and longevity.

Ben: I’m really big on making ‘classic’ work, something that can last a long time, or you can return to it. Naturally, work’s going to follow trends and styles. Some people really kill it and do killer work with those trends and styles and approaches. But I’m always thinking, well, what does that look like in two or five years? Nothing is right or wrong per se. But what I value is timelessness.

It’s not really a conscious decision. When you’re making work, you’re just making the work. There are conversations and little miniature decisions that get you to the end result. We’re not starting with, let’s make classic work, it’s just in the back of your mind. It’s like running: maybe I say I want a good time, but it’s foolish to start with those things. You have to go on the journey.

Logan: Get lost a little bit, right?

Ben: Yeah, I think so. Get infatuated with the process. That’s something I try and hold on to, that process is always going to shift and morph and change per project and per year or just depends on how you’re feeling. But getting lost in the process is a really beautiful thing.

Logan: I watched the Stone Roses interview from the 80s. One of the members says that it takes a while for people to fall in love. He’s talking about throwing himself deeply into something - you just do it because you enjoy it.

Ben: I think that’s so true. I think there was a first love for photography, but it became sustained or something I nurtured and then almost fell deeper into. Similarly with running, I always thought to myself, I wanted to hold on to that original feeling of it when I first found it.

One, particularly if everything falls away that I’m part of, what’s left is just the act of running. I would love to do that even into my older years, if I make it that far. It’s the same thing of classicness. Like, how do I make something sustainable in a way that I’m equally still in love with it, but also can still practically and physically do it too?

On the artistic approach to running

Logan: How are you currently approaching movement and your visual practice?

Ben: I always look at things with an artistic lens first before the running or practical side of it. So I’m always like, okay, well, if I’m just starting to run six days a week, at least it should feel, there should be a by-product of an artistic practice. Because that’s how I’ve always lived my life.

When I first started Good Sport, and even photographing football and basketball and stuff, there was so little of it around. Similarly, when I started documenting running, there was hardly anyone documenting it, especially in an experimental or driven kind of way. It felt like there was so much I could do. It’s like this big huge forest that I could just wander around and there were ideas everywhere.

But as the growth of it popularised, then naturally people jumped to it. I’m only really looking from my point of view. There could be a hundred other people saying the same thing, there’s nothing around when I was doing it. But this is just purely from how I saw it.

But the images have changed, I think, as well. That’s something I’m quite interested in, particularly with my relationship to Erniold, talking about maintaining a sense of timelessness.

On Running itself

Logan: What’s your typical week like?

Ben: A lot of my running is with friends. That’s how I began. AM:PM.RC was born as my running journey started. I do run a bit solo, but at least half of my runs in a week are with people.

Logan: Describe what you’re training for. You said you got a coach?

Ben: It’s the same as other things, you hire a professional to help you do something. I’ve always been very self-disciplined and self-driven and motivated. I dropped out of school when I was 17, so by the age of say 22, I was so hungry for education and knowledge and information that I started finding books and researching with my favourite artists and so on and so forth.

So I went on this journey of, I can go and learn this by myself. I’m driven and excited by it. I’ve created this system for how I learn and apply that into running and go, well, I’ll read the book and I’ll absorb that information. Recently, I had done a full Arthur Lydiard program. I had a lot of expectations for a race and came up short, and I just thought I don’t want to have to put my own pressure on this. I want someone else to guide me. And that’s where I’m at now. However, I’m really craving some other types of movement at the moment. Sometimes running can feel so rigid and routine.

Logan: Is it true you have no interest in the marathon?

Ben: A coach I had years ago who was my physio, and he was helping me work through some injuries. He always said to me, if you’re going to go into long distance, you should take your time. You see these people get into running and they’ll go straight into the marathon, first event or within a year. He told me to really develop over a good amount of years before you commit to those things. I always really took that advice on.

I’ve never had an interest in running a marathon. It’s just not in my world of thinking, even though I’ve photographed many marathons and all my friends do and I fully respect that as a thing. My body and my mind don’t enjoy anything over 25km. I like to push, exert myself and try new things and I’ll be adventurous in various ways, but it doesn’t mean I need to go and run a marathon.

Logan: Throughout the entire conversation, what I’m picking up is that the approach to running is like a long-term plan.

Ben: It really is. Yeah, it’s like you’re training to keep the wheels spinning which is pretty cool.

Growing up with not much in terms of material goods and access to things and education and things like that, there’s certain things that leave a mark on you in your youth. I remember a physio after a skateboarding accident was basically like, you’ll never really play sport again. And that really affected me for years. I fully believed it and I got so rebellious. I was like, well, screw you then. I’ll never play sports. I’ll hate sports.

When Good Sport started, I started running because I was like, I’m gonna reclaim this for myself. This idea of longevity, I’m almost trying to prove to my younger self, hey, you can sustain this for a long time and you can overcome things that you were told you couldn’t do, basically.

Logan: Oh man. Can you just continue? I have this thought we should make this Howl’s Moving Castle Sport Bus thing on wheels that reminds kids that the good old days are right now.

Ben: Yeah. And I think it goes back to, I’ve had plenty of skateboarding injuries and I just know how my body is and what it reacts to. And also, we were talking about before, being an artist and grappling with being dedicated to running while also wanting to document it and make ideas around it. And sometimes I’m not giving, I’m so focused on the running schedule, routine, and plan.

Often when I run is the best time of day for the most beautiful light or when my mind is really clear and I’m really, I could be working on something else. But I choose to prioritise running which ultimately still fuels what I do but it’s really at odds with each other sometimes and I’m still trying to figure that out. Sometimes I wish I could just throw the running away so I could just focus on making the work. But I equally want to feel healthy and to push my body and mind to see what it can do.

Logan: What’s a memorable moment in your time running that’s just been very transcendental, euphoric?

Ben: There are two that come to mind, two runs. They’re not anything special per se, but I just have two memories that come to mind.

One, I remember telling myself before a run, I wanted to notice every single thing I ran past on purpose. This was before myself or friends had practised any mindfulness. I just went, what does it look like if I ran and I just noticed every single thing? I remember running along this almost grated fence line and the sun was coming through. So you get that real flickery shadow and light as you move past it. I remember noticing the sweat on my nose and I can notice the shadow on the ground and I can notice my foot landing here. It was really extremely immersive.

The other, in my early running days I’d go for these night runs. We’d call them a Teflon run. If you’d had a hard or a stressful day, you would just go out in the evening and run hard for like 10km. Then you’d write in your Strava or whatever you had at the time, “Teflon run.” It meant you were washing it all away.

I remember having one early on and just that very, not naive, but that first love kind of feeling of running where you’re just like, nothing else matters and the whole world’s just falling behind you. Those are a lot more few and far between.

*Interview conducted November 2025*

Photography by Nick Phipps
Interview by Logan John Buchanan
For Erniold

No pictures, just words for this piece.

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I grew up with a bedroom full of posters.

Cutouts from magazines covering every wall. I was always comparing. Always reaching for another version of something I craved. Something I might afford one day.

I rearranged that room constantly. Changed the posters around, I even made a bed head out of a sheet of MDF wood, and varnished a whole collage of images to it. It was my version of rolling everything in glitter, as the saying goes. As a household, we didn’t have much, but we were full of life. And I had this—my walls, my taste, my curation. It let me be expressive. Find what I liked.

It felt freeing.

The internet now. Particularly Instagram. The algorithmic version of it. It’s not enough for me. Maybe I’m holding onto a utopian idea of what the internet was. Early Tumblr. Flickr. Blogs. When it felt more like my bedroom wall. When you could stumble into someone’s world and it looked nothing like yours.

I crave exhibitions. Books. Printed material. These have always been part of my life. The fabric of my creativity. But now, more than ever, they feel potent. Important. A website could be that. Substack, potentially? Barely.

I hate uniformity. Everyone having the same looking things. The same grid. I hated my school uniform too. I pushed the boundaries of what I could wear.

What am I saying?

I’m dissatisfied. I look at what I share online like putting posters up on a wall. A bedroom come gallery space. But now it’s a house of mirrors. My curation reflected back at me a thousand times. Flattened. Homogenous. The same walls everyone else has.

So what’s next?

I’m learning to walk in another direction. Changing how I use these platforms. The ratios. The purpose. Tool-like, not world-like. Not places to explore and consume endlessly.

I’m reclaiming my relationship with the internet and with art. If I don’t, I’ll drift into passivity. Just floating. What made sharing my work publicly and online, as an artist—was and is always my nuances. The particularities. The specificity of how I see things. But right now, I don’t have a choice. AI and algorithms are everywhere. Every platform. Permeating everything. My nuances commandeered for quick gain. Simulations of simulations. Hyper reality that arrived thick and fast.

Being an artist—commercial or not—has always meant working with intent. With purpose. Full expression. Not just the loud kind. Whatever makes sense to you.

Like rearranging your bedroom at on a Saturday morning.

Like putting up posters on your wall.

Do you feel it too?

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Thank you for reading.

BC

X

The trip took me to my "second home" of Amsterdam, Paris for fashion week, and a lovely few days in Copenhagen, where I did not want to leave the Mfpen store and ate classic Danish breakfasts every day.

I had two very profound gallery experiences on this trip that I can't stop thinking about.

The first was the Wolfgang Tillmans retrospective at the Centre Pompidou. My gosh, there is something about Tillmans' work that speaks to me on levels I didn't even know existed. I'm always left with as many questions as I have major revelations. There was this one photograph -- an image of (think self portrait) of a pink t-shirt and black pair of Adidas shorts. The shape, it makes, the color, the composition is just beautiful.

This is what gets me about his work: how can someone be so prolific at image-making and genre-bending, with such sheer volume of work, yet have it be so cohesive and connected? His work really makes me think of photography as this vessel of communication, this ongoing conversation that spans time, nuance, environment and circumstance. To be honest, I struggle to articulate in words what I feel about his work. I'm better off in a deep and long conversation. But for the sake of words on a page: go visit this show if you are in Paris. Spend hours there, take breaks, revisit, absorb and think. If you've been, or do go, let me know your thoughts.

The second experience came when I took the train from Copenhagen central out to Louisiana Museum of Modern Art. I love train rides to rural areas outside major cities, particularly to galleries and museums. I have fond memories of doing this in Tokyo, and in New York, taking the train upstate to Dia Beacon (I think this is my favourite place in the world).

Anyway, The Louisiana is beautiful -- the building alone sends sparks through my brain. After going through each exhibit, I then meandered through the sculpture park. There was a piece called Self Passage by George Trakas, a site specific pathway around the grounds. The thinking alone just grabbed me. I finished my time by walking through the Richard Serra piece in the sculpture gardens. Standing inside those massive rusted walls, I felt completely turned around but somehow grounded at the same time. Serra, alongside Jeff Wall, Thomas Demand, James Turrell, Viviane Sassen and Dana Lixenberg, are all artists who have left a deep impact on me after experiencing their works in different galleries and exhibitions. It's an unpredictable thing that happens to me, but when it does, it shifts something fundamental about how I see.

I also visited a Turrell piece in Copenhagen, but generally no photos are aloud of his work, which I respect. And I also visited Richard Avedon show ‘The American West’ in Paris which was also exceptionally good.

I've spoken at length about my belief in how important museums and galleries are to cities and culture. I love the democratic nature of a larger museum. And when travelling, if you're feeling overwhelmed in a new city, a gallery or museum can feel like a sanctuary.

* * *

These experiences got me thinking about communication, which brings me to something recent. My longtime friend and collaborator Dan Leigh worked on a redesign of my website. As I move more into directing, I wanted to clearly showcase this area of my work. So we split the site into two sections, with both sides scrolling independently.

But the real thing I keep coming back to is this: I believe a massive part of being a photographer, director or creative labourer is communication -- not just in the work you're making, but how it's communicated, right down to the details of how you talk with people, how you write, and so on. It's really the glue of what we do.

You can check out the site here.

New Website

I love replying to comments about making images and the industry ins and outs. Especially if you've had one of those gallery experiences that just rewired something in you -- I'd love to hear about it.

Leave a comment

Thank you for reading, and for the continued support, I’ll leave you with a few extra pictures!

As a creative labourer, I've spent years navigating the self-imposed or externally imposed labels that follow anyone who makes images for a living. "Oh, you only do those running photos, right?" The minute someone thinks they've got you figured out is the minute your work starts to calcify. Assumptions kill possibilities.

Someone once asked me, "Do you get nervous or anxious when you're on a job?" I stopped to think about it and replied: "No, not when I'm on set. That's where I feel I thrive, and that's where I want to be, even if it's out of my comfort zone."

There's this physical tax of simply getting to the job itself. Anyone who works in this field will tell you about that 4:30am pre-alarm jolt--the anxiety of "what if I left the batteries behind?", or "what if the traffic is just too much?", or "was my flight actually yesterday?" The sheer mundanity of this particular anxiety is what makes it so potent. It's not fear of failure, but fear of never even making it on set.

I've always thought how nice it would be if all travel to and from jobs were more of a breeze. And, well, I never thought I would say to myself, and even out loud: "Riding this e-bike is making me more creative."

Living here in Melbourne, I ride everywhere. I live near pretty much anything and everything I do here, so that helps. Most days I'm riding to the studio and back. Running errands, riding to the track for sessions with the AM:PM.RunCrew--life in general is on two wheels.

But until recently, I'd never ridden to jobs. Camera gear is heavy. It's in Pelican cases or oversized padded bags. It never quite fit in the basket of my 1980s Raleigh. If it did, it would be very precarious.

Then I had a chat with the team from Lug+Carrie. I spoke about what I do, about wanting to fit my gear on a bike and ride to shoots. I'm also deep in half-marathon training, and riding my other bike every day was not entirely helpful for recovery after bigger training sessions.

I got paired with a Tern Quick Haul P9.

What came next wasn't a transformation so much as a recalibration. I knew there were a few editorial jobs coming up where it was just me, a smaller kit (even though this still ends up weighing around 25-30 kg) and the subject I was sent to photograph.

I had one assignment where I needed to be there at 5 a.m. It was a smooth 20-minute ride away, bike full of gear. I rocked up, locked up and did the job for a few hours. Normally I'd be stressing about parking fines in the back of my head the whole time.

For another one starting at 7:30 p.m., I had a dinner with friends first. I rolled my Pelican case into the pub, ate dinner, said "see you later" and rode 30 minutes up the bike path, arriving feeling very chill and ready to go.

After weeks of these rides, I noticed my thoughts had a different texture on arrival. Ideas that had been distractingly half-formed were suddenly crystallizing while riding somewhere between the Yarra Bend and the studio. There's a particular state of mind--not quite meditation, not quite active thought--that emerges when your body is in motion but not straining.

I used to absolutely rip my commutes on my analog bike with the kind of manufactured urgency one develops living in cities, arriving places always a bit too sweaty. This experience has been different. When people ask what it's like, I struggle for the right analogy. It feels, I don't know, slow-motion but not?

For me, riding my Lug+Carrie really just allowed me an extra 30-40 minutes a day to think in a different way (not arrive sweaty)--and in a way that wasn't just sitting with a coffee somewhere getting distracted by my phone.

Anyway, here are some photos of my bike in places where I've stopped to let my thoughts catch up with themselves.

I’ve been photographing a new-for-me sport each month this year. The other week I went to a Drift night out at a raceway. Once I have a few more sports I’ve documented I’ll write up a bit more about my experiences.

Thanks for reading. I hope my story about riding a bike made sense. Sometimes I just like to think about how other things in my life relate to making pictures or being a working photographer.

Lastly, I’ve had on repeat this album by Marlon Williams the last couple of weeks.

And, Fade Evare. Every song on repeat.

Ciao.

BC

My next thought jumped to the timing. We had brought our trip home forward a couple of days so I could fly to New Zealand for a job with On. Sparing all the nitty-gritty logistics, the timing landed, but it was looking very interesting.

I'd wrap the job in NZ on Thursday morning. Little did I know at this point in the planning I'd barely be standing after what was the physically most challenging shoot I'd been on. More on this below.

I'd wrap the job in Queenstown Thursday morning, board a flight to Canberra via Brisbane, get to my hotel around midnight, charge my camera gear, and be up, mediated, caffeinated, and ready to meet my assistant Liam to drive over to "The Lodge" to start the assignment.

The aforementioned job in NZ involved two 3:00 AM wake-ups, two sleeps on the sides of mountains (one sans tent), and the most technical, vertical, up-down-with-basically-no-flat-sections trail. The only reprieve: no wind, decent weather, and remembering I wasn't in Australia, so no need to worry about snakes.

By the time the job wrapped, my legs felt like I hadn't been to the gym for months and then did the most hectic session ever. My legs wobbled even while standing still.

Arriving at my hotel, I felt off. I knew I was tired, but something was up. That night I barely slept; a fever hit me, and I could hear the person in the room next to me snoring their head off. After a few delirious meditations and brown noise, I got some sleep, and my fever broke.

Luckily, that morning we were told the Prime Minister would be late, which moved our shoot a few hours later. Phew, time to rest a bit, have a long and strong coffee, and a couple of Nurofen.

Liam had driven over from Wollongong, and we made our way to The Lodge, the primary official residence of the Prime Minister of Australia.

Over my career, I've photographed many notable people. At the EU Commission in Brussels, I photographed Danish politician Margrethe Vestager. On a rooftop in Melbourne, I photographed Shaun Stussy. I took rapper Denzel Curry to a lookout in my hometown for a cover shoot and walked around with NBA player Ben Simmons at his high school.

This felt different. The cover story was for The Monthly, which is Australia's foremost magazine on politics and culture. It's also an election year. A couple of weeks after the story came out, Albanese called the election. Next to this, the Pulitzer Prize-winning writer Geraldine Brooks interviewed him for the story. Safe to say I was in good company.

For those who are interested. You can read the article at TheMonthly.

Generally, the way I work, I have a clear direction of what I am looking for. I've often said I liken my practice to playing with Lego. You can have a set of pieces, say to build a house or a rocket ship. There is a structure and plan to that. But you can remix it, build something else, or be a bit spontaneous with it. I love having the ability to plan and to be playful.

The power dynamic that oozed from Albo was as evident as my legs screaming at me for still standing up. It was utterly fascinating. He knew what he wanted and what he did not want. I had requested four locations or areas at the house. He said three. Certain backgrounds and objects he strayed away from, whether from taste or politics.

After chatting to him about an article we commissioned in the latest issue of Good Sport called "Hard Game, Soft Diplomacy" (written by Henry Chase Richards) about Albanese's interest in starting a Rugby League team in PNG, he warmed up and gave me the fourth location.

I had been given an hour with him, but with people like this, I always consider if that's really necessary. I knew he was tired and hadn't had lunch. So I wrapped in 30 minutes, and he said his goodbyes.

Liam and I went to get our own lunch after the shoot to decompress. It was a whirlwind, not in an uncontrollable kind of way. Just in the sense of where we were and who we were photographing. It felt a bit surreal, even though it's something I'm so used to.

Being challenged and walking the line of discomfort is where I really love to be as a photographer – whether that being with sore legs and pushed physically – or stretching my brain and eye to think beyond what it is used to. It's a drug-like feeling of entering this door to the unknown with a growing set of skills and experience and a hopefully refining eye. It sometimes feels like a video game.

There is movement in all of my work. Through Instagram and algorithms, people generally see my work through sport, running, and the like. Being able to apply my thinking and style to a commission like this continues to solidify what I value as a photographer.

The pure act of photographing--making pictures--is my drive. And yes, it has always been embedded in the cultures and subcultures I am part of. What I find really interesting about being a photographer is being commissioned for projects that take you and the viewer out of what is expected. The marrying of opposites.

My instagram post shares a series of images from this story.

This year, I want to be commissioned for more portraits and profiles. I looked back through my archive and have the strongest memories of different people I've photographed.

Thanks for reading. If you have a question or an intrigue, I'll reply to your comments below (for email readers, jump on the Substack app).

In the meantime, I’m writing and refining a couple of film ideas. I’m exploring what international representation looks like, coming to the end of training for a half-marathon which is in a few weeks. And building some new things/thing with Good Sport.

Bye

X

In recent years, when planning summer trips that still involve being by the water, I've found myself turning inland to the high country and up the coast into NSW. These trips are all about long drives with either NTS or some podcast series. Gumtrees, wildlife (though I'm getting more jumpy about snakes every year), and long days - running, drinking coffee, driving, surfing, reading books, swimming, setting up the tent and eating simply – on repeat.

The high country lakes, rivers and mountains feel more insular to me. I can think creatively there, feel at ease, comfortable. And then up on the NSW coastline - maybe because it's not so far south - the beaches feel different. Gumtrees line the shore, there's patches of rainforest, white sandy bays, and water that's actually warm enough (for me) to swim in.

This summer I did two trips in these directions. After a back-to-back-to-back year of making films, books and campaigns, I needed to be away from the city, my studio, computer, and writing treatments. However, not the kind of break to make me want to put my camera down - I travel with this now very beaten up point and shoot that I cherish.

I won't go into the itinerary, but I felt very lucky to see some properly magical places along the way.

BC in 2025.

After a week camping, it was straight back into it - NZ for a campaign, then Canberra for an editorial job.

I'm entering year 15 running my own practice/business/studio as a photographer and now director. Over these years my thinking has evolved, my style's flourished - the work's become more intimate, zoomed in, sweaty and expressive. My scope has expanded too, with full-scale production partners here in Australia, New Zealand and Amsterdam, the work that is possible now is closer to what I see in my head. My line's always open if you want to work on something, I'd love to chat.

Thanks for reading.
Forward Ever, Backward Never.

And to leave you, here is the gem that is Down At The Garden, Flying Nun Records show on NTS.

BC

At the start of 2024 I had this thing stuck in my head - I really wanted to make this sweaty, expressive film in the gym. Like properly get in there and create something with all the nuance I'd been observing.

I'd been floating between different gyms over the years and started noticing these moments that fascinated me - the ways people move when they're in their own personal world – headphones in, but equally on show and expressive. But when I looked at what was out there, all these gym campaigns just felt so... staged. No real energy to them, you know?

I nearly wrote off the whole year thinking something in this world wasn't going to happen for me commercially (I've got this whole personal short film I'm writing about the Gym too). Then right at the end, the opportunity to put a treatment forward for this brief - literally everything I'd been thinking about all year came to me and my agent.

I had all these references swimming in my head.

Northern Soul by Elaine Constantine, I’m in awe of her work. If you haven’t seen Northern Soul, I suggest you do. The way the lighting has this warmth, and highlights the sweat, but it doesn’t feel harsh and you can see these tinges of blue. Love!

TikTok, it’s kinda a goldmine for performance and people showing very real parts of their lives - in this case, the gym. I found all these scenarios of gym apparel failing, mixed with the grit and intensity of working out.

Challengers (obviously), the sweat! All I want to do is show more sweat.

The performance in this Lola Kirk music video really enticed me. It feels so matter of fact, and so unabashed. This is part of my youtube deepcuts, deep dives.

And, Love Lies Bleeding. While the plot of this film is kinda bad. The gym-working-out-training scenes are next to none. And I just loved the energy and sexiness in them.

And bringing it all together, being on set is so fun. Like very hard-hyper-fixated-dehydrating-complete-focus-problem-solving-teamwork-high-energy kinda fun.

I made a comment on my instagram post saying I'd gush over the team here on Substack. I cannot reiterate enough how much the team makes all the difference on campaigns and film sets like this. It’s not even cliche, it’s just a straight up fact. It's an ALL CAPS, THN-Q from me.

And, seeing how the film (and this is just the 1st of 3) have been received by their audiences…

Reading comments like these afterward is pretty special. Not because they're talking to me specifically, but just knowing it clicked with people, that they felt something real in it. That's always the goal - to make something that resonates but keeps its integrity.

I shared the film above via LNDR’s IG. It does look hella nice in the 16:9 versions on my website (and you can see the unreleased versions too)

BENCLEMENT.WORLD <<CLICK

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Ok, What's next, it’s 2025? My notebooks are full of terrible handwriting of details, scenes, and nonsensical notes. It's always about breaking down barriers between me, the camera and the subject. But, I want to get closer, let scenes-moments breathe more. And MORE sweat, more of those awkward real moments, more expression. It's not too much to ask, cause I know that's what's real and what's felt.

To finish,

Brick vs Face is a New Zealand punk/hardcore band that I think broke-up around 2009. I still listen to them regularly, and a lot in the car of the last couple of months. Mostly for lyrics like this: “Wearing black clothes don't make you a black sheep. Chasing the latest trends week after a week. You're a walking billboard just as two dimensional.” You can enjoy my nostalgia as well too.

You can follow my work at benclement_, Vimeo, and see a bunch of new work at benclement.world

Also follow goodsport_magazine if you don't already. Issue 06 is out and shipping worldwide.

Next time, I’ll talk about some experiences of shooting a few campaigns on the top of mountains last year.

Thank you, have a great day. XX - BC

I'm sitting here writing this as the new issue of Good Sport is being printed between Berlin and here in Melbourne. It's our 6.5th issue – we've been a magazine-studio for ten years now. You might be thinking, how does an annual magazine end up with six-and-a-half magazines in ten years?

Well, you know what they say, magazines are tough. But honestly, that's not really the main reason. We like to move slow, to think, digest, simmer and kind of wait for the theme to present itself. Plus, we take on other publishing and event projects that use up a heap of time and energy – all while being full time commercial and art-based photographers/filmmakers. And honestly, sometimes, our energy and priorities just shift.

But here we are at Issue 06. (Issue 0.5 – it was this poster edition we made when we went through our redesign a few years ago).

Issue 06 is themed 'The Prop'. James, Tim (Team GS) and I were talking about being at the public pool last summer watching people sun baking with books on display, often not being read. There was a bunch of twitter memes about 'the prop book', and it got us thinking about the magazine as an object, and then how sport can be a prop or a stand-in, something that holds up ideals or values.

The deep-dive began, spanning some months – between thinking, short bursts of making and long breaks of taking on jobs. Some ideas simmered, some boiled, nothing over cooked. New thoughts emerged and perspectives shifted. The theme developed with us.

We reached out to previous contributors who really embody the voice of the magazine and some new voices that had caught our eye. The stories? Indoor athletics as theatre, the wetsuit as a second skin, football as a religion, sport as a prop for politics, the sculpture of rock climbing, the opposite of winning and more.

Then came the design process. We wanted to match our theme to a refresh of the design and even the printed format (GS06 is smaller and inspired by a classic penguin book). We worked with Samson Ossedryver who brilliantly added the right twists and turns to the magazine. Split between Theory and Practice, this issue explores the boundaries of authenticity in sport, art, and culture.

And now we get to celebrate. The launch events are always what I'm most hyped about. Being able to share stories about the process and see people interact with the magazine just gives me such a boost.

For my friends and readers in Melbourne, I would love to see you at these launches.

First up, we're at Hope Street Radio next Thursday 28th November, 4.00pm til late. Come pick up a fresh new magazine, and new GS merchandise (we did t-shirts). Get in early and you'll score the new hot-menu item – an ice-cold banana-split 🍌🍦. DJs all night long, and all the types of drinks you like and would expect.

And then, we hit the trails.

Orienteering with Good Sport Magazine, Coffee Supreme and Almighty. Saturday 30th of November 8.30am to 12.00pm Starting at Coffee Supreme Melbourne.

We're teaming up with Coffee Supreme and Almighty for a morning of orienteering and coffee. I really don’t think I’ve orienteered since I was perhaps 8 years old.

We got the pro’s in, Orienteering Vic. They set up a map and a scattering of checkpoints, a few surprises, and maybe a detour or two. The best way to think of it, is a workout for your mind, body, and sense of direction.

There's no wrong way to find your way.

Get tickets

Hope to see you there!

Also, you can order issue 06 before it hits stockists globally. It’s shipping in the next couple of weeks.

Buy Issue 06

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The days are getting longer here in the Southern Hemisphere. For me, this means more time with friends and a special time of year to make photographs. It’s the longer shadows and the lingering warmer colors that get me. The sun is in a different part of the sky, and so objects and spaces that were hidden all winter long are now revealed—I love it!

The Melbourne Marathon was on the other weekend. I’ve been attending with my running crew, AM:PM.RC, for the last ten years. We’ve hung out at the same spot for our cheer zone every year. It’s a section of the nature strip in the middle of the road where runners pass at least three times throughout the event. A great vantage point for us to cheer on our mates and other runners. And for those who are running, it’s a good place to get a boost of some much-needed energy or take a pit stop.

This year, like every other year, there were plenty of tears and smiles from personal bests or blowouts, the tears and smiles interchangeable for either.

I take a camera with me every year, usually with no aim or purpose apart from getting a flick of my mates so they can remember the day. But there’s so much I like to look at, even from standing in one spot all morning. Naturally, there are all the other bits I notice too.

I guess what I’ve always felt is that images help wrestle with meaning and the way photography conveys ideas—in its immediacy, its nowness—not just in the particular look (although color, framing, and all that are big parts of it).

So here’s a mishmash from the Melbourne Marathon. After spending the majority of this year traveling for commercial jobs, it’s refreshing to have no brief, time constraints, or deliverables (although I love all those things too).

Enjoy.

At Terrain.Earth - one of the most beautifully interesting spaces in Melbourne, and I would say the world. Located at 101-103 Brunswick St, Fitzroy VIC 3065

From 6.00pm to 9.00pm come down to check out the book and purchase a copy if you have the means.

The film of the same name will be playing, drinks of the non-alchoholic style will be flowing and the specially made playlist for the film will enter your ears.

There will also be a limited run of VISIONS t-shirts printed on Arc’teryx performance t-shirts available exclusively at the event.

Climbers are like water in reverse here, slithering and flowing against gravity, so much so that climbing the limestone is often referred to as an art rather than a sport.

VISIONS is a film and limited edition hardcover art-book about self-discovery, nature, harmony, exploration and rock climbing in Kura Tāwhiti, Castle Hill - Aotearoa, New Zealand. A place that seems to thrill the human heart, which has long been a site of spiritual significance and artistic inspiration. In more recent times, it has become a magnet for rock climbers.

Many of the artists now seek a perfect feeling of body over rock, rather than simply making it to the top. The beauty of a good climber interacting with the rock here is plain for all to see. The approach to climbing has become more gentle with a greater attention to detail. The climbers’ shoes are kept extremely clean and chalk is used sparingly; when connecting with the high art of nature, great care is taken to minimise one’s footsteps.

Created in collaboration with a special group of climbers and friends who are the changing face of the sport. The result: a film and accompanying book called VISIONS produced by Good Sport Magazine and Arc'teryx.

Directed and photographed by Ben Clement and Mondo Hays. Publication design by Joshua Briones-Yap. Typeface by ABC Dinamo. 3D Visuals by Workgroup. Featured climbers: Alec McCallum, Elijohn Felipe, Erica Gatland, Isaac Buckley, Joshua Briones-Yap, Kenji Boekholt, Matilda Plant, Matthew Corbishley, Max Brown, and Riley Jean Butler.

Good Sport Magazine, June 2024, ISBN 9780646892146, 196 pages, Hardcover smyth sewn, 40.5 x 30 x 2.0

For those in Melbourne, I hope you can make it! - If you know of a friend who may be interested, please share this with them.

Thank you, and see you there.

BC

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I’m gearing up for a campaign I directed and photographed to release (I think October) and I was looking at finished work and some images I made on my point and shoot during the in-between moments of the job.

I really love looking at and loved making these images of huge vast mountainous landscapes and a few mementos while taking a walk from my hotel.

It made me think about photography (which I’m thinking about often) and the purposes we impose on it. That even though I was away working as a photographer. There for a specific task. I thought, the act of making pictures no matter the result or what hierarchy they fall into (self-imposed or external) that these other images I made gave me a joy, a joy that is the foundation of why I am and became a photographer. To observe and be curious about what is in front of me and what I experience.

I guess what I’m saying is that it's easy to get caught up in all that comes with a commercial job (which I love and adore, even if it can batter and bruise) and that at its simplest, photography is just a really nice way to help me make sense of the world around me and in me.

Here are some pictures. There’s a feeling of looking at something from a new perspective, or being in a scenario you would rarely find yourself in. It makes your eyes and brain expand and contract simultaneously. Gosh, I could stare at mountains like these forever.

In other news, my new book VISIONS is out, if you haven't seen it. It was also made near the mountains, in a basin of mountains to be specific. A place that is so deeply immersive and wildly captivating. A place that the Dalia Lama called the spiritual centre of the universe. I recently got a better shipping rate on postage. So if that helps, you can buy on at the link below.

Get your copy of Visions

And if you haven’t seen the film yet. It’s now out via the Ar’cteryx YouTube Channel.

The Melbourne International Film Festival just wrapped up. I saw some brilliant films. Namely these two doco’s. I’m also in doco mode for research purposes.

Queens of Concrete1 and You Should Have Been Here Yesterday2

Thanks for reading, wherever you may be in the world.

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Well, my G2 broke after one frame. I consider my self pretty good with camera nerd kinda stuff, I ran a lab and worked in a camera store from the age of 18 to 22 - but even Reddit couldn’t help me here. I’m not even sure anyone in Australia fixes Contax’s - anyway that’s opening up a chapter of shinfo.

I begrudgingly decided to spend the week making images on my iPhone. Not something I enjoy a hell of a lot these days, even though I still consider it a useful camera and like what it produces as an image.

The light up in Queensland was delightful, the sun set at a wintery time of 5.30pm but with summer heat, warmth and color. Lots of light bouncing off the ocean, making strong shadows and interesting shapes.

I’m home now, I’m not sure if I’m done with my Contax, or my phone for that matter.

P.S, I saw soo many whales 🐋 on this trip, but an iPhone no matter how good just does not do an image of them justice. So here’s a handful of images mostly of the sun and ocean from my week away.

And one more of this cloud, cause I loved the way it reflected on the ocean.

Thanks for reading!

BC

Rain On Tartan.

This is the second film I've released in the past month! (I’m quite sleepy now after not only making the films, but organising and hosting the screenings too). We held an intimate screening a few nights ago here in Melbourne. Despite some technical difficulties involving a few cable switches, a ladder, and the help of five or six people, getting to show this film was a magical experience.

Catriona approached me while she was in Europe, racing the Diamond League circuit in 2023. What continued were many in-depth conversations that led to the concept of this film, which we set out to create at a track in Melbourne: the George Knott Reserve. A track we both trained and and knew intimately.

After editing the film and talking with Raudie McLeod, who scored it, he mentioned that the style reminded him of "The Zone of Interest." Although our topics, budget, and many other elements differ, a spark ignited. I experienced that feeling when you realise you've discovered a new layer in your work, or a new path has presented itself that feels truly like you.

I've always loved watching a scene unfold. Equally, I love the energy of moving with a subject—the latter being more commercially understood, with its momentum and dynamism. However, I also cherish the quiet, the contemplation, and letting things reveal themselves. This can be conflicting in the choices I make creatively.

In finishing this film, I was able to balance these loves—creating the work in a way that allowed scenes to unfold that have constant movement within each frame.

Working with Raudie on the score, I wanted a somber yet not too dark of a feeling and sound. A trilogy of books and a film I referenced was "Annihilation," directed by Alex Garland, with a score by Geoff Barrow and Ben Salisbury. The film captures the most beautiful aspects of nature, yet it's twisted, drawing you into seemingly mundane or everyday scenes.

The film features George Knott Reserve, a local public athletics track, home to the Collingwood Harriers. Non-linear and shot over several days, it captures the track’s unique atmosphere, ecology, and function as a public space. This collaboration was inspired by Catriona’s architecture master’s thesis, which examined how sport relates to urban space. Athletics tracks host diverse yet conflicting activities and interests: the training of recreational and professional athletes, schools and clubs, and private ownership versus public access. Catriona explored how to navigate these needs through various methods—interviews, design testing, photography, filmmaking, and autoethnography (her double life as a professional track athlete). "Rain on Tartan" transcends the dominant visual mode of architecture by expressing spatiotemporal concepts of atmosphere and sensory connection to space.

Making the film allowed us to talk to the club president, observe track use, and consider what elements produce inclusive and valuable public spaces that still meet the needs of athletes. Tracks can seem intimidating and specialised, but we hope our film shows their lively, playful, sometimes gritty, yet beautiful personalities and how publicly accessible tracks can serve as public squares and gathering places

Enjoy!

Ben & Catriona

For the best experience, I suggest watching this film with minimal to no distractions, on the biggest screen you have with the best audio you have.

Concept: Catriona Bisset

Director & Editor: Ben Clement

Music Composition: Raudie McLeod

Color Grade: Mondo Hays

If you found this substack (and film) interesting, consider sharing with someone else you know.

SUGGESTIONS

If you have any suggestions of what you’d like me to share, please let me know below.

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You can follow and keep up with what we’re doing at @benclement, @catrionabisset, @raudie_mcleod, @soccermums.

Posts from the archive are HERE.

Thanks again, and have a good week !

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Screening Tickets

Making this film, emphasised how much I love to make work at the intersection of constant movement and slowing down to focus on details and nuance.

If you are in town and about, I’d love to see you there. Grab a ticket above.

“Rain on Tartan,” is a short film by photographer and filmmaker Ben Clement (👋), in collaboration with Olympic athlete Catriona Bisset. Created as part of Catriona’s independent master’s thesis in architecture, this 10-minute film delves into the connections between athletic tracks, public spaces, and the surrounding landscape. Set at a public track in the city of Naarm/Melbourne, with an original score from @raudie_mcleod, “Rain on Tartan” offers a exploration of how these environments shape and are reshaped by human movement and interaction.

Music by @raudie_mcleod
Color by @soccermums
And thanks to @collingwood_harriers for the access.

Screening Tickets

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Created in collaboration with a special group of climbers and friends who are the changing face of the sport. The result, a film and accompanying hardcover book called VISIONS, supported by Arc’teryx.

The book was designed by Josh Briones-Yap who features in the film. His connection to this place and culture emanates through the book.

The film premiere and the limited edition book will launch on Wednesday, June 12th at Everyday Coffee, Collingwood, Melbourne. 

And July 12th in Ōtautahi, Christchurch.

Tickets to the screening and launch are available now at the link. If you are in Melbourne, I would love to see you there.

SCREENING TICKETS

The remaining copies of the limited edition book will be available via Good Sport Magazine and at select global stockists.

Then what is your journey for?

See you at the screening!

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Anyway, I bought this book called Hardflip. It was all about skateboarding in Aotearoa. Naturally, there were pages of some of the best captured moments over the years. But one image stuck out to me. It was a photograph of one of the photographers, standing on a set of stairs holding his camera. He wore baggy Boom denim, perhaps a pair of Circa’s, I’m not entirely sure. But, where my eyes went to was this coach jacket / spray jacket he wore that was unzipped 3/4 of the way down, so it splayed open to show the t-shirt underneath. The way the sleeve sat, half off his shoulder, left this imprint. I immediately wanted to copy it. My mum had taken me shopping for my once yearly ‘you can buy two new things’ outing. And I bought this no-name grey coach/spray jacket. I never bothered zipping it all the way up. It was stuck at the exact 3/4 mark.

And what solidified this moment of expression for me was being taken to my friend’s weed dealer’s house. Older guys who skated well, who I thought were the shit. We opened the door, and this dude goes, ‘who’s your mate? Damn, he’s got the style with the half zipped jacket’. I was a quiet kid. I smiled on the inside and followed my mate into the house.

That moment made me think about the details. The small moments that make something have a particular expression, feeling, or style.

I have a few new campaigns out.

Champion - Through It All.

I have another jacket story. I bought a Champion coach jacket in Japan in 2014. I still wear it today ten years later. I have tried to find a replacement without success. But this jacket, like the one when I was a teenager, has really defined a lot of moments for me. And have had a few encounters where people have asked where it was from. And so working on this campaign gave me some good feels.

Icebreaker - Move To Natural - Global Campaign.

A huge one to bring to life. I’m beyond stoked with this, particularly with how much of a mammoth effort it was. Shooting stills and film campaign simultaneously is a different type of energy.

Extra bits

I have two new films launching soon (May and June). One with an accompanying photobook. Perhaps one of the most ambitious projects I’ve worked on to date. I’ll update more on launch dates and screenings soon.

My insta

Thanks for reading.

I love answering questions about my process. Ask away!

Leave a comment

And for all commercial bits. Hit up my agent.

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Notes on Notebooks and processes.

For as far back as I can remember, I’ve used a notebook or variations on pen on paper. My notebook usage is a bit scattered; I blur the lines between diary entries, writing ideas, and random to-do lists. Recently, my friend Jessie and my partner Lauren inspired me with their exquisite notebook systems. It’s part of my analog re-brand-- my phone in the other room, no more Garmin watch for running, and clock radio alarm. The notebook is now getting a makeover.

I’ve chosen these 5 notebooks for different purposes.

A Blank pad for brainstorming, fluff, and getting ideas on paper. A weekly planner for 2024, is a very new thing for me as I’m so tied to Google Calendar. A smaller unlined notebook to take what was on the blank pad and refine further. A pad of post-its for quick notes and to-do’s. And a journal for the more deep and meaningful.

I’ve always discovered that beginning with pen and paper is the best way to eliminate distractions and get to the core of my message and visualisation when writing treatments and responding to creative briefs. Getting it all down essentially writes a plan as I’m going, so I always have something to refer to. Once I start, I find all these little nuggets of my unique expressions that I can’t recreate just by typing from scratch. Sometimes I find if I just type it out, I get into this kinda algorithmic way of writing cause I just reference what I read and see daily.

While I’m banging on about my new notebook system and speaking of working on treatments and briefs. I have a few trusted and indispensable go-to things. The initial one is Are.na, a website I’ve been utilising since its early days, roughly in 2014-15. I gather all my references, links, notes, and ideas for personal and professional projects. Google everything is also a go-to, slides, docs, sheets, storage, it’s just easy, it all works and talks to each other and I don’t have to pay another whole subscription for each new thing. I love using the Drafts app for taking notes, writing drafts, and saving links. Lately, I started using Milanote cause my brain likes to see everything on one big page and if it hides in another folder within a folder, I just forget about it.

For me, as a practicing artist and commercial photographer turned director, about 80% of the creative process is spent on writing, planning, thinking, researching, checking, referencing, and updating. In the past, I would work 3-4 different jobs each week, ranging from editorial to campaign to personal. I thought that was the approach that made sense for a working photographer like me. Following an exhausting year of nonstop work and travel in 2017, I had a profound change in perspective on how I create and appreciate my work. Ideally, we would spend several weeks on development and production, but often it’s only a few days. I consistently inquire about the factors driving this urgency or the potential for time flexibility, especially to allow ample time for developing the idea.

Maybe this is the year I start working with a Pentax 67 or similar and go full analog mode. I’m not sure if it’s just me, but I’m finding with my digital work (and don’t get me wrong, I love my digital process) I just have to work the files to bring the life out of them. Everything is so sharp and clear from the get-go.

We will see 👀

Two Interviews

I had two interview experiences at the end of last year that I'm very proud of and grateful to have been invited/involved in. The first was by my friend Christian whose substack is lol/sos. You can read that here. Christian has written my favourite pieces for Good Sport and is currently deep-diving into another that I can’t wait to read.

And Sam from Blasé Sound came to my house, and we chatted for a good while I just felt so comfortable and enjoyed his approach. Plus, some of the previous guests Sam has had are people I’ve looked up to for many years and so it was nice to be invited on. You can listen to that here.

Books!

I’m a sci-fi, magic realism kinda reader and just read the Southern Reach Trilogy, it left me with more questions than conclusions, but I soaked it up and the writing style took me on a journey, the descriptions of nature and environment were written in ways I’ve never experienced before. I’m going to go re-watch the film adaption of Annihilation with Natalie Portman again, where I first discovered these books.

And, a fav from late last year was Tomorrow, Tomorrow, and Tomorrow. I know this was on a lot of reading lists, but wow, it just was so beautiful, the way it spoke about friendship over many years. Something I think a lot about and am deeply nostalgic for and often get in my head about.

Keeping it very vague here.

But two new films (both nearly done). Two publications (one will be Good Sport Issue 06). And it’s our running crew’s 10th anniversary which is wild. 1. That I’ve been running for 10 years and 2. the sustained effort and energy of the crew is very special. We’ll be having a heap of fun this year and collaborating with all our mates.

My Youtube watch-later.

Jeff Wall is always my go-to for articulating processes and thoughts on photography.

And this New Zealand film about working the Milk Run is a true inspiration.

A few images to sign off on.

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