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  • Amongst old field patterns on these ancient Welsh hills of the Llyn Peninsula in North Wales, lie even older patterns, of hut circles not easily visible from ground level. This hill is Moel Pen Llechog but all the hills around here were heavily populated (comparatively) byt ancient tribes from Bronze Age to Iron Age and even medieval times.
    GD001250.jpg
  • Amongst old field patterns on these ancient Welsh hills of the Llyn Peninsula in North Wales, lie even older patterns, of hut circles not easily visible from ground level. This hill is Moel Pen Llechog but all the hills around here were heavily populated (comparatively) byt ancient tribes from Bronze Age to Iron Age and even medieval times.
    GD001251.jpg
  • Dramatic large cumulonimbus clouds increased over lush rolling hillsides and farmland, whilst the ancient stepping stones navigate the walker across the wide gap of the Afon Braint River near Newborough on West Anglesey. The hills of Snowdonia can just be seen in the distance, <br />
<br />
<br />
Sneezing, coughing and nose blowing, I left the van and with eyes as blurred as looking through milk bottle bases I arrived at these ancient stepping stones. I had enough sense to plan for the tide this time as I wanted to see the stones surrounded by high water unlike my previous shot "Out of Sadness Came Forth Joy". A VERY different story today, and although I was feeling below par, the light was absolutely beautiful, sharp, crisp and intense. The skies were dramatic and the clouds voluptuous and swelling. I took great delight in jumping the stones across the deep blue water, just for the sheer hell of it. The surrounding water was incredibly calm and reflective with just the smallest signs that actually the tide was flooding
    GD001061.jpg
  • GD000602.jpg
  • Dramatic large cumulonimbus clouds increased over lush rolling hillsides and farmland, whilst the ancient stepping stones navigate the walker across the wide gap of the Afon Braint River near Newborough on West Anglesey. The hills of Snowdonia can just be seen in the distance,
    GD001060.jpg
  • GD000667.jpg
  • In the early 19th Century, the capstone was rotated, and the uprights altered to support it. In the process the quoit was lowered considerably. It was said that originally a horse and rider could pass comfortably beneath it. It may originally have been as long as 60 feet in length and is estimated to have been erected in 2500 BC.  In the background stands the famous Ding Ding Mine, where Cornish miners toiled hard to extract tin for world export. It's ironic that whilst we were pulling out precious metals we were simultaneously sinking ancient monuments !
    GD000508.jpg
  • Dramatic large cumulonimbus clouds increased over lush rolling hillsides and farmland, whilst the ancient stepping stones navigate the walker across the wide gap of the Afon Braint River near Newborough on West Anglesey. The hills of Snowdonia canbe seen in the distance, and on the wall straight ahead sits a cock pheasant, creating an almost perfect traditional British countryside scene.
    GD001062.jpg
  • Over centuries, Mên-an-Tol, locally known as the Crick Stone, has been associated with myths and folklore. Some of the more widespread legends are that if a woman passes naked through the holed stone seven times backwards during a full moon, she will become pregnant. It has also been used over generations to try & cure children of rickets, by passing them naked nine times through the hole in the stone. Whatever rituals have gone before, my ritual is to pay this wonderfully surreal ancient site a visit, usually in moody weather.
    The Hole
  • Over centuries, Mên-an-Tol has been associated with myths and folklore. Some of the more widespread legends are that if a woman passes naked through the holed stone seven times backwards during a full moon, she will become pregnant. It has also been used over generations to try & cure children of rickets, by passing them naked nine times through the hole in the stone. Locally however, Mên-an-Tol’s reputation for curing back problems earned it the name of “Crick Stone” Whatever rituals have gone before, my ritual is to pay this wonderfully surreal ancient site a visit, usually in moody weather.
    Sacrifice
  • GD000509.jpg
  • Winner - Honourable Mention in 10th (2017) International Colour Awards (Architecture category)<br />
<br />
Multiple bay windows in the main street of Valletta, Malta.
    GD000603.jpg
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  • I could see this Tor from miles away, in every direction! It loomed, dark and strange, like a battleship on the horzon. As I got closer, it really was isolated from everything else. Only masses of wind blown grass, tangled brush wood, and hidden holes prevented access. It was a very spritual place for me, and finally climbing to it's dark, slightly green top, I felt privileged to be there, surveying the surrounding lands right down to the Atlantic.
    GD000475v2.jpg
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  • Senglea, Great Harbour, Malta
    GD000676.jpg
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  • Our ancestors were collecting copper here 4000 years ago and below the surface there are huge caverns and miles of passageways hewn away by men with pick axes. The quarry saw it's most prolific excavation in the eighteenth century when the export of copper made this area very rich, The nearby port of Amlwch Harbour flourished as world demand for this fine grade copper increased. It was why the area became known as the Copper Kingdom.
    GD001183.jpg
  • This is a huge area of industrially scarred landscape. This area has been mined for 4000 years, not 400 but 4000 years! It was once Britain's largest exporter for the precious metal Copper and was known as the copper kingdom. Hundreds of tall ships used nearby Amlwch Harbour to export the material. Now it is unused, though the quality of this ore is outstanding.
    GD000673.jpg
  • The Iron Age hill-fort of Tre’r Ceiri hugs the nearby hill top, as seen from Yr Eifl, with Harlech and Cardigan Bay in the background.
    GD000802.jpg
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  • The largest iron age settlement / fortress in Britain, Tre'r Ceiri covers the top of a high Welsh mountain, so high that clouds often pass lower than the summit as here. The highest peak on this peninsula hides behind the mist in the background.
    GD000977.jpg
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  • The first monument before you reach Meini Hirion, (meaning long stones) which are known in English as Druid's Circle.<br />
<br />
This is a prehistoric monument on the hilltop above Penmaenmawr, North Wales. A 1958-9 excavation revealed two three sided cists, (stone slabs placed on end forming a cavity). Each contained a cremation burial, which in one case was sealed by a layer of quartz pebbles. Other finds within this “disturbed circle” were an oval hearth on which flat stones had been placed as if to extinguish the fire; a circular fire pit full of charcoal and a Graiglwyd stone axe. The site has been dated as being as being 1130-145 B.C.
    GD001973.jpg
  • My shadow is included to give some sense of scale to this huge area of industrially scarred landscape. This area has been mined for 4000 years, not 400 but 4000 years! It was once Britain's largest exporter for the precious metal Copper and was known as the copper kingdom. Hundreds of tall ships used nearby Amlwch Harbour to export the material. Now it is unused, though the quality of this ore is outstanding.
    GD000048.jpg
  • The largest iron age settlement / fortress in Britain, Tre'r Ceiri covers the top of a high Welsh mountain, so high that clouds often pass lower than the summit as here. The highest peak on this peninsula hides behind the mist in the background.
    GD001129.jpg
  • Pilgrim's Way Llyn Trail, Iron Age route - A Life path for centuries. <br />
<br />
The largest iron age settlement / fortress in Britain, Tre'r Ceiri covers the top of a high Welsh mountain, so high that clouds often pass lower than the summit as here. The highest peak on this peninsula hides behind the mist in the background.
    GD000976.jpg
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  • Druid's Circle in thick fog, Penmaenmawr
    GD000939.jpg
  • Covered Neolithic burial chamber of Barclodiad y Gawres forming one side of Porth Trecastell cove, West Anglesey, North Wales. Sea Pink (Thrift) grows in the foreground.
    GD000482.jpg
  • The largest iron age settlement / fortress in Britain, Tre'r Ceiri covers the top of a high Welsh mountain, so high that clouds often pass lower than the summit as here. The highest peak on this peninsula hides behind the mist in the background.
    GD000982.jpg
  • Fleeting patches of light caress the slopes of the ancient mountain of Cader Idris during squally winter weather. Clouds build and billow at speed above the peaks, in contrast to the dark shadows of the huge North facing cliffs.
    GD002033.jpg
  • On a strangely wishy washy Corfu day, we had meandered around this ancient Greek castle, fascinated by the series of human shaped graves carved into the limestone. As we left the castle and drove up the hill opposite, typically the sun burst out from under the clouds and splashed light all over the cliffs and hill tops. It was very quiet there, save for the sound of the Cicadas in undergrowth. I couldn't believe we'd found this solitude on Corfu!
    GD000844.jpg
  • Low sunlight casts long shadows over ancient walled fields just west of St Just in West Penwith, Cornwall. Shower clouds form a dark background against the agricultural foreground of vivid green grass between higgledy piggledy drystone walled pasture.
    GD001974.jpg
  • I've always loved Lamorna, the cove at the mouth of a huge tangled and lush green valley. In these woods I've stumbled across modern Pagan symbols and charms, I've been spooked by the numerous ghost stories and I'm convinced the woods are watching you. Surrounded by some of Cornwall's most famous burial mounds, standing stones, ancient settlements and Celtic crosses, it's not difficult to understand why us modern invaders are still being checked out by our ancestors. In contrast to the earthy Pagan charms, small paths sometimes lead to the most exclusive hidden cottages in Penwith, and ones I certainly will never ever be able to afford. In this shot, we have a metaphorical as well as literal choice of paths to take, and in this ancient, quiet and dripping woodland, we will find very different destinations.
    GD001273.jpg
  • During a morning snorkel around Porthleven reef I was quite impressed by the pillows of bed rock below the sea surface, and how everything that we take for granted about our everyday lives, is quite literally built on it - ancient earth, ancient land, such temporary humanity.
    GD002830.jpg
  • We stumbled across what we thought was a derelict cottage in the middle of woodland down a tiny track. <br />
<br />
Evening sunlight was pouring through a window beyond, and there was a reflection of the sky and trees in the front windows. I went up to the window &  was shocked to discover signs of habitation. There was even a calendar from 2015 on the wall, yet still I suspected that the place had just been deserted. I took this one image because of the beautiful light and sense of time passing, melancholy almost but imbued with such positive afternoon sunshine. <br />
<br />
It was only then that I heard a car pull up behind us. The very jovial driver was the landowner, and he told us that someone does indeed live there. The tenant is a 75 year old man who refuses to connect any power to the house, even though all the faciities are there. He only has a gas bottle to power his ancient stove. <br />
<br />
This old man has a tiny garden plot over a mile away on a steep cliff side, and he walks there regulalrly to tend his vegetagbles. He has an old car, but that is one of his only links wih modern’ish technology. <br />
<br />
The landowner is in no hurry to move the old gentleman on, and it seems he will see the end of his days in this ancient farmyard cottage, almost off the grid, and I hope deeply happy because of it. <br />
<br />
Next time I’m down, I’d love to photograph the old man himself, if he’d be happy for me to do so. What a character he must be.
    GD002129.jpg
  • January 2004, Big seas lashed the west coast of Anglesey, and strong waves pushed their way into the small cove at Porth Nobla, under the ancient burial mound of Barclodiad y Gawres.
    GD000092.jpg
  • Nominee in 10th Annual Black & White Spider Awards<br />
<br />
International MONO Awards 2014 - Honourable Mention <br />
<br />
"This is the land of legends & spirits, this is the land of tribes & survival. <br />
<br />
Between two ancient mountains lies a bog, black and peaty, a cold trap. As dusk approaches and heavy weather moves over the peaks, a striking, powerful woman turns her head to the last rays of weak sunlight. As she moves, her pale body slowly sinks into the dark skin of the hill, the hill on which she was born half a century before"
    Before Darkness
  • I have to be honest, I normally steer well clear of Trearddur, normally populated by hundreds of beachgoers, jet-skis, power boats, 4x4s on the sand, boat trailers and sailing dinghies. The small bay is surrounded on all sides by a hotchpotch of architecture, some interesting, some ghastly, but either way is not a place of peace, tranquility and natural landscape that I normally seek for my imagery.<br />
.<br />
However, during this lockdown I was able to witness a little bit of history, for even on this beautiful blue-sky day there were only a dozen people on the whole beach, and most kept close to the promenade. For the short period of time I was there, looking to create new images for a loyal customer, I had a small sense of how lovely the bay itself actually is, without the crowds. Long foamy pulses of Irish Sea waves pushed themselves up the broad sandy shore, licking their way around the stumps of petrified forest that I'd never seen before and never knew existed.<br />
.<br />
In the distance a dog walker wandered into the burning light and the call of oystercatchers could be heard over the sound of the waves. The virgin sand was mostly unspoiled by footprints and if it were not for the urban skyline I could have imagined myself on an ancient beach, nothing more than a stretch of coastline where the beautiful predictability of high & low tide were all that mattered in the world.
    GD002609.jpg
  • Bwrdd Arthur (Arthur's Table in English), also known as Din Sylwy is a flat topped limestone hill on the island of Anglesey. Located at the eastern end of Red Wharf Bay, approximately 3 kilometres north west of Llangoed. It is the site of a an ancient hill fort dating pre Roman.
    GD000747v2.jpg
  • Away from the burn of the weak sunset over the Irish Sea, campion blew gently in the breeze and colour-matched clouds patterned the delicate sky. It was as if a scene from a Ladybird book, pastel paintings of rural landscape where even the ancient burial mound was a scene of beauty and serenity.
    GD002381.jpg
  • She felt the solitude; she was alone and content to be so. She could walk for hours if she wanted to, without finding another soul. In a clearing in the dark woods grew a special tree, ancient and distorted, its wise old boughs now a large hand, enticing, beckoning. <br />
<br />
She silently climbed onto its palm and slowly eased her legs either side of a thick branch, a large mossy finger now pressing into her. She abandoned herself to the sensuality of her position. The sticky heat of the day endured and as she lay there, gasping the warm air, she felt the first drops of perspiration trickling down her flesh.
    Intimately Connected
  • 3 Edition A1 - 5 Edition A2<br />
<br />
Crisp afternoon sunlight spills across remnants of ancient stones in a lost valley. This valley and escarpment was once home to a thriving quarrying community, and long before that a handful of fishing folk, and long, LONG before that, it was home of exiled Brythonic leader Vortigern, who betrayed Britain to the Saxons.
    GD001058.jpg
  • The rolling silver waves at Porth Nobla carved their way inland, separating the foreground dunes from the spray softened, historic and undulating landscape of West Anglesey. The ancient burial mound of Barclodiad y Gawres lies on the headland, just right of the frame.
    GD000353.jpg
  • Dinas Dinlle is a vast beach beyond Caernarfon in Gwynedd North Wales. It is backed by an ancient hill fort which is gradually being eroded away by each high tide. As the tide retreats it leaves a huge expanse of sand, rocks and pools
    GD000439.jpg
  • During awful, dreary weather in Snowdonia, a break appeared in the clouds and evening sunshine flooded in an upon this soft and ancient Welsh landscape. It looks as though a theatre spot light has been turned on but the lighting is natural and just the way I saw it.
    GD001579.jpg
  • An early morning riverside walk alongside the Severn in Shrewsbury. The air was chilly from the Northerly wind but the sunshine did it's best to spread its warmth and brilliance over this green urban landscape. Birds called to each other and the willows rustled in the breeze. I've always loved strips of nature in urban areas and this river meander almost completely surrounds this ancient town with lush green watery landscape.
    GD002190.jpg
  • An early morning riverside walk alongside the Severn in Shrewsbury. The air was chilly from the Northerly wind but the sunshine did it's best to spread its warmth and brilliance over this green urban landscape. Birds called to each other and the willows rustled in the breeze. I've always loved strips of nature in urban areas and this river meander almost completely surrounds this ancient town with lush green watery landscape.
    GD002191.jpg
  • Bright sunshine falls on ancient Cornish fields and cattle on the moorland that can be seen fron the hill of Chapel Carn Brea, in the parish of St Just - an Hercynian granite outcrop, owned by the National Trust.
    GD001943.jpg
  • Dinas Dinlle is a vast beach beyond Caernarfon in Gwynedd North Wales. It is backed by an ancient hill fort which is gradually being eroded away by each high tide. As the tide retreats it leaves a huge expanse of sand, rocks and pools
    GD000436BW.jpg
  • Traditional fields, white-washed roofs of Anglesey cottages, the ancient mine at Mynydd Parys in the middle distance and in the far distance, the high peaks of Tryfan and Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon).  Shot from above the brick works at Porth Wen,
    GD001300.jpg
  • Yet, despite all, there was a surreal if melancholy beauty to the place. This once tourism-fronted seaside town, this once also busy quarry town that has seen better days, is topped by ancient standing stones and open windswept moorlands. The often-quiet hilltops offer solitude and spectacular views, Eryri behind, Anglesey and the Irish Sea in front, a sea quilted with colours and shadows from the vast skies above. I’ve stood at the Druid’s Circle, high on the flat peak and I’ve spoken to the stones, literally, for they listen without judgement and they hear you. I see figures in their form, and in the low wet mists when no one else is around, they will move in the vapour. Up here, high above the shadow-nestled town, it is expansive and liberating, bright even in cloud and with wings you could swoop over the darkness of Pen to the sunlit sea beyond, perhaps in Summer actually catching some warm sun rays which catch the huge sandy beach skirting this shadowy habitation.
    GD001709.jpg
  • "I was off the beaten track amongst acres of dark, ancient trees. As is often the case in these environments, it's possible to 'sense' clearings in the forest simply by watching out for changes in illumination. These open windows burn with light from the skies above so I headed in that direction. She was lithe, sensuous and beautiful, basking on a lichen-covered rock. She luxuriated in the contrast between the cool stone beneath her arched back and the warmth of afternoon sunshine bathing her loins.<br />
<br />
She was alone in her own space, far from the multitudes, simply enjoying the wonder of the nature around her.  Nothing concerned her for she was the apex creature in this world. A Stonechat chirped in the distance and two Ravens called to each other in flight above. Tiny summer flies moved silently from shadows to light and the sound of bees collecting pollen, hummed in the still air.
    The Lioness
  • In body-bending gales on Wales’ North coast, I topped out on the summit of this ancient hill-fort to peruse the fast-changing light and incoing tide at Dinas Dinlle. I had to physically lean onto the tripod to keep the camera as still as possible to make the exposure. <br />
<br />
The sun disappeared behind a hige cloud bank an the intensity reduced dramatically seconds after this image.
    GD002363.jpg
  • An early morning riverside walk alongside the Severn in Shrewsbury. The air was chilly from the Northerly wind but the sunshine did it's best to spread its warmth and brilliance over this green urban landscape. Birds called to each other and the willows rustled in the breeze. I've always loved strips of nature in urban areas and this river meander almost completely surrounds this ancient town with lush green watery landscape.
    GD002189.jpg
  • This ancient castle in South East Anglesey has been used more recently by numerous locals for quiet smokes, beers with friends and intimate liasons!! Only a few years ago you had to struggle through undergrowth and trees to even find the castle but local government are trying to make this special place a tourist spot and are clearing trees to make it more accessible and ready for official footpaths. It is a great shame really because the struggle to get to the lost castle was in many ways reminiscent of the historical stuggles to gain access in our more distant past!
    GD000457.jpg
  • I had been to photograph the ancient Roman settlement of Din Lligwy in the rain, but this derelict old chapel moved me most. At one time this building would have been part of the fabric and centre of local community but in an age where materialism and self preservation have become the game it was quite disheartening even as an agnostic that so much of our spiritual being has crumbled with the stone, the trees bearing witness to once was.
    GD000493.jpg
  • What a difference a season makes. In the summer this beach is busy with tourists, swimming, kayaking and paddle boarding on the water; families eating fish & chips on the sea front and dozens of walkers perambulating along the seafront, but in Winter, it feels vast, empty and exposed. The full force of the wind howls onto this beach from the Irish Sea and the mountains behind seem darker, higher and more ominous. The ancient hill fort s gradually being eroded away, now less than half the size of the original, and hardly surprising when you watch the waves relentless attacking the base.   <br />
<br />
The wind was so strong that the sea became a conveyer of fast, foamy white waves that pushed far up the beach on every landfall. My feet got soaked as the water wrapped around my legs time after time but it was all part of the amazing experience of feeling connected to winter as much as the landscape itself.
    GD002385.jpg
  • Mon Mam Cymru - mother of Wales provides the grain for the people of Wales. Wonderful signs of ancient history still clear to see.
    GD001306.jpg
  • Huge banks of sea fog swirled in off the Irish Sea, isolating hill summits almost creating islands within the hilly landscape. The iron-age hill fort of Carn Fadryn sits atop the peak in the distance, a large settlement of almost 100 circular huts.
    GD001468.jpg
  • I have to be honest, I normally steer well clear of Trearddur, normally populated by hundreds of beachgoers, jet-skis, power boats, 4x4s on the sand, boat trailers and sailing dinghies. The small bay is surrounded on all sides by a hotchpotch of architecture, some interesting, some ghastly, but either way is not a place of peace, tranquility and natural landscape that I normally seek for my imagery.  <br />
<br />
However, during this lockdown I was able to witness a little bit of history, for even on this beautiful blue-sky day there were only a dozen people on the whole beach, and most kept close to the promenade. For the short period of time I was there, looking to create new images for a loyal customer, I had a small sense of how lovely the bay itself actually is, without the crowds. Long foamy pulses of Irish Sea waves pushed themselves up the broad sandy shore, licking their way around the stumps of petrified forest that I'd never seen before and never knew existed.<br />
<br />
 In the distance a dog walker wandered into the burning light and the call of oystercatchers could be heard over the sound of the waves. The virgin sand was mostly unspoiled by footprints and if it were not for the urban skyline I could have imagined myself on an ancient beach, nothing more than a stretch of coastline where the beautiful predictability of high & low tide were all that mattered in the world.
    GD002607.jpg
  • The burial stones have been here thousands of years, a sign of people & culture long past. The sea batters the coast endlessly and gradually the land is disappearing. At some geological point in time the ancient burial mound will be swallowed by an ocean and our time on this planet could well be measured.
    GD002601.jpg
  • A rural walk through ancient lands, where new life grows in sunlight amongst dark ruins.
    GD001488.jpg
  • Beautiful white pigeons finding roosting on numerous protuberances from the ancient harbour wall at Charlestown in North East Cornwall.
    GD001078.jpg
  • Beautiful white pigeons finding roosting on numerous protuberances from the ancient harbour wall at Charlestown in North East Cornwall.
    GD001078.jpg
  • Dinas Dinlle is a vast beach beyond Caernarfon in Gwynedd North Wales. It is backed by an ancient hill fort which is gradually being eroded away by each high tide. As the tide retreats it leaves a huge expanse of sand, rocks and pools
    GD000432.jpg
  • I keep on returning to this magical, enchanted little copse of tangled ancient woodland deep in Snowdonia. It often seems to catch the afternoon & evening light and in the Spring before the trees enter full bloom, the wonderful shapes of trunks & branches are really apparent.
    GD002651.jpg
  • In a streaming gale Jan and I crossed sand dunes to an almost deserted foam-strewn beach. The waves were heavy and fast and the wind was lifting and hurling foam creatures from the shoreline to the dunes, only avoiding splattering our faces thanks to slipstreaming! The sunlight was broken but when it burst through it was warm and rich, sparkling off the wet sand, backlighting oxygenated suds, waddling their way from the water margin. It was a bitterly cold air-stream sweeping down from the North, and poor Jan looked like a frozen rigid Chilli pepper in her new Paramo coat as I stumbled around on wave-soaked reefs. I was excited by the events in front of me but was ever conscious of my suffering slim companion. The spray was constant and when I looked towards the ancient burial chamber of Barclodiad y Gawres I could see horizontal sheets of spray contrasting with the brooding dark hillside. My lens was covered in spray within seconds and the thickness of salt meant that even specialist lens cloths were not effective at clearing off the saline coating - I accepted that today’s shots would be soft and droplet covered, and actually that no longer worries me these days, as atmosphere always beats detail. I balanced myself on a rock jutting from the pristine sand, ready to shoot the choppy sea but today again, I got caught out by one of those ‘tricksy’ seventh waves, which lifted to knee height which was already 18” above the beach, so this time I did get a boot-full of seawater but also a fun shot in the process - no award winner for sure but a great memory of a moment which had Jan laughing widely, even in her sub zero state :-)We walked on, my boot warming like a winter wetsuit and as I was already wet I resigned myself to further soakings as I haunched just an inch above wet sand to photograph a parade of the foamy suds. Finally we stood atop an isolated black crag in the center of this long sandy beach and we watched larger waves exploding over the offshore s
    GD001712.jpg
  • A gentle breeze searched through the undergrowth for me, the ancient burial mound beyond the hill had witnessed me, I had walked in my ancestors footprints. Even as I tried to leave the place I was being watched.
    GD001107.jpg
  • A throw of darkness covered the Welsh hills whilst wisps of pale clouds swirled and writhed below. Bitter winds whistled across the slopes and summit castellations. I huddled behind an airy dry-stone walls whilst hail pounded my shoulders for almost half an hour, chilling me until my hands went white.<br />
.<br />
After such an elemental bombardment I should have been miserable but I wasn't. I felt more alone than in a long time, and as I stared at the grass around my boots I became aware of a warm illumination. I looked up at the hills beyond where wide beams of sunlight gently caressing their surface, burning away the darkness and mist, revealing a myriad of details on this earth's ancient skin.<br />
.<br />
Knowing the mountains were near empty, made nature seem even more humbling, more magnificent, more wild, perhaps the best it's ever looked, or so it seemed in my own emotionally pulsing headspace.
    GD002488.jpg
  • Beyond the illusory warmth of foreground moors, stood the frozen twin peaks of Arenig Fawr, briefly illuminated by moments of temperamental winter sunlight.<br />
<br />
I was lured by the mountain’s wonderful structure and ancient beauty, but the buffeting gale was biting into my face so on this day at least, I was glad not to have been on the icy summits.
    GD002439.jpg
  • A narrow sheep track meanders across the centre of the summit of an ancient hill fort on the Llyn Peninsula in North Wales. The sea is gradually eroding away at this historic monument and only half of the original site now remains
    GD002418.jpg
  • I was up early to enjoy thick fog over the island. A shipwreck was exposed on the low tide, silhouetted by a blaze of brilliant sunshine. The ancient Welsh hills, normally a backdrop to this view were invisible, obscured by curtains of billowing fog gently heading Northwards.
    GD002305.jpg
  • After a bitterly cold but sunlit 8.5 mile landscape topography walk, during which we experienced sunburn and snow flurries at the same time, it was a welcome sight to see the gleaming white path leading from the ancient 300ft waterfall of Malham Cove, through the rolling green farmland back into Malham village, where we’d left the van.
    GD002029.jpg
  • Spring Trees at the base of the gigantic 300' ancient waterfall of Malham Cove, reach for the last of the evening sunshine whilst rock climbers practice on the shadowy walls of the cliffs behind
    GD002030.jpg
  • In this ancient Welsh cave, eroded by eons of nature’s attack, it feels hard, solid and eternal nevertheless. The headless organic figure shows our irrelevance to the bigger world. This microscopic virus will do what it will do, it will kill and decimate communities in the same way as so many viruses before. Whether it’s the climate, forces of nature, bacteria or viruses, our place on this earth is fragile and finite - we are never really in control of our future. <br />
<br />
We can be so beautiful, wonderful, creative and innovative, but without love, human touch, close relationships and socialising, human life seems little more than billions of organisms struggling to survive. Our whole life is over in a fraction of a microsecond in geological time, so I hope for all of us, that we find a vaccine soon so that we can once again become the full human beings that we all need to be.
    Rock Bottom
  • Looming out of the fog-shrouded barren landscape thrusts a granite tor.<br />
Once molten earth, but now ancient stone carved by eons of wind, rain and acid erosion.<br />
<br />
A woman delicately ascends the slippery, lichen covered blocks, her soft skin vulnerable to the gritty surface, grazing her as she climbs. She stands on the summit, the highest point around, the wind whipping her hair across her face, and horizontal drizzle soaking her exposed body. She scans her surroundings looking for any signs of others, but there was no one. She was totally alone amongst the stones.
    Alone in the Stone
  • Faults within faults, shadows form in darkness. The nude woman gently tests her footing on the slippery rock at the base of the cave, gripping hard edges to steady herself as she moves further into the vast wet chamber. Over millennia the force of the sea has exposed, pummelled and forced open the soft veins of this ancient stone but amazingly, in what seems almost perpetual night, life clings to the ribbed surfaces far inside. Sounds of the day are muffled, save for the relentless roar of the waves at low tide. It’s cool in here and the woman shivers in the damp air, her skin and muscles taut, her senses heightened to the strange environment. <br />
<br />
In a moment she finds herself wading through a deep, smooth-bottomed pool and she inhales sharply as the water pushes between her open thighs. The water shallows and she feels painful hard pebbles and small boulders beneath her delicate feet. She is almost invisible now and only the crunching sound of the shingle reveals her location.  Then there is silence for a short while. As my eyes adjust, a gentle prick of light pierces the darkness beyond and gradually becomes more distinct. I now realise this is not just a cave it’s a tunnel. Across the small circle of light moves the slender silhouette of the woman and in a blink of the eye she was gone.
    The Dark Cave
  • In an old woodland deep in the heart of ancient Britain, a young couple lie together upon deep, lush moss, under a delicate winter canopy of spindly trees. The air is cold and the sunlight weak, but in it’s low rays the lovers hold each other close, sharing body warmth through intimate touch. As they make the closest connection possible in this magical, enchanted forest, silently observed by the spirits of people and community gone by, they don’t feel the cold, only life, love and peace.
    Enchanted
  • Lost in a dark and very ancient valley, a man gives up hope, wandering barefoot and directionless. He leans back against a tree, his head in his hands and he doesn’t see the trunk bend to accommodate him, to ease the pain, to cradle him. He doesn’t see the hawk like face in the stone of the stream behind him, opening her eyes, aware that another creature had spiritually connected. The dark hills crowd around but he doesn’t realise that they are buffering the cold wind. The grass is short and soft and he is hardly aware of the warm carpet it has provided. He remains curled as the gurgle of trickling water in the brook pacifies him. A blackbird sings a melody in nearby woodland before a silent dark blanket gently pulls overhead. By dusk he finds peace and a sense of direction. He stands up, walks tall and purposefully and is suddenly acutely aware that he’s been comforted by nature, at one with the earth and in his natural element.
    Comforted by Nature
  • It was mid-winter and I found myself wandering in dark, ancient mountains. Amongst ice-cold waterfalls, with snow clinging to patches of nearby riverbank knelt a woman hunting for fish. However when I studied her more closely, I noticed that she was actually looking at her own reflection in the water, gently tracing the outlines of her face with her fingertips on the mirrored surface.<br />
<br />
So delicate, tiny and primitive looking in her surroundings, but through the simple act of recognising one’s self, one’s existence, she was utterly connected to her hostile environment.
    Against All Odds
  • The biggest waves I've personally ever seen at Porth Tyn Tywyn and I have walked, swam and surfed there many 100s of times over the last 20 years.<br />
<br />
On this particular morning I had gone there with the idea of body boarding what was reported to be a brilliant swell for Anglesey. The day was clear with a strong offshore wind and just a few rapidly clouds. I parked up overlooking the dunes and the sea beyond and I could already see wave tips higher than the dunes (foreshortened perspective of course) and I knew it was going off! I walked down to the reef and two surfers were being thrown about in the white water before finally getting out to the back where a strong rip was pushing them Southwards towards the bay of the burial mound, Barclodiad y Gawres. It was funny in a way watching these guys go for the surf but spend so much time just trying to keep parallel to the shore. At this point, I just knew that I was not going in! I have not body-boarded seriously for years and having had a bit of an epic attempt at Sennen in Cornwall in January in big seas it was all too intimidating for this surf-unfit body !<br />
<br />
Of course the upside to that decision is that I could guilt-freely enjoy taking pictures of the surf instead and it was just so beautiful and powerful to watch. Thankfully the offshore breeze was keeping most of the sea-spray off my lens for a change meaning that I could continue to shoot without minute-apart lens cleans. <br />
<br />
The light on the sea in the bay was sharp and intense, and the lips of the waves were backlit and sparkling against the darker sky in the background. I enjoyed studying the bands of light and dark as they created monochrome Rothko seas, large ocean canvases of abstract landscape. After an hour or more of outgoing tide, the waves noticeably reduced in height to the point where perhaps I could have gone in, but with a full CF disc I decided to head for hot coffee back in the gallery instead - wrong decision ? Probably ! :-)
    GD001718.jpg
  • Nominated for 11th International B&W Spider Awards<br />
<br />
I’ve always found the landscape here fascinating. This arid, windblown, dusty volcanic island is a shadow of its explosive past but the signs are all around. I love that you can see into vast craters, marvel at the lava fields and study the ash covered slopes. It still feels very raw, as if it only happened a few years ago and it makes me, and all life, seem such a stroke of universal luck.
    GD001619.jpg
  • These ancient cobbles seem to have existed for hundreds of years at this North Yorkshire fishing village, and can be seen in all the old postcards and vintage photographs of the area. It was strange to see this historical architectural construction being pummelled by the North Sea, and to imagine how many people in times gone by had stood and watched the sea perform its powers of erosion
    GD001508.jpg
  • These ancient cobbles seem to have existed for hundreds of years at this North Yorkshire fishing village, and can be seen in all the old postcards and vintage photographs of the area. At night, long shadows from fences surrounding historical public houses stretch out across the cobbles towards the darkness and the moonlit landscape beyond.
    GD001510.jpg
  • We have sold 900 copies of this book, and the last 100 copies are being removed from sale until August 2024 to coincide with a major exhibition of my work at the Oriel Ynys Môn.<br />
<br />
This is my 4th & largest landscape book so far. Images are from my wanderings across the intriguingly beautiful regions of Anglesey, Snowdonia & the Llyn.<br />
<br />
This is not a book 'about' Wales, but instead a personal collection of atmospheric images stimulated by the light, weather & culturally influenced landscape of this spectacular area.<br />
<br />
You may recognise many of the places in this book, but when you study the body of work 'as a whole' you will hopefully notice something else, something unfamiliar - sometimes disturbing, sometimes melancholy, occasionally uplifting - something that has more to do with a spiritual connection to this ancient earth, infinite skies and that fragile thing called 'life'. Welsh Light is more than just an interpretation of a magical landscape; it's a momentary insight into my search for the 'bigger picture'.<br />
<br />
"Glyn Davies is obviously a photographic artist, but he is also a practitioner in total control of the technicalities of his medium. Enjoy this special body of work."<br />
<br />
Roger Tooth, head of photography, the Guardian
    Book - Welsh Light.jpg
  • Even though I've flown there myself, so I know they are real, the sudden appearance of these stunningly beautiful and seemingly huge set of islands on the horizon, still takes my breath away to this day. I can utterly and totally understand why ancient people saw these islands as Lyonesse, mythical, magical and tantalisingly close, yet within such a short space of time, and from lower elevations, they disappear as quickly as they appear..
    GD001266.jpg
  • From my book Nant Gwrtheyrn - Y Swyngyfaredd (The Enchantment)<br />
<br />
This is the impressive Iron Age hill-fort of Tre’r Ceiri, looking towards neighbouring Yr Eifl and on towards Nefyn and the Llyn. The hillside is very exposed and it’s hard to imagine why people would settle this side of the hill! It would certainly get more sunlight, but would also face the prevailing winds and rain. However, its sheer size (approximately 150 huts) and condition impressed me greatly.
    GD000749.jpg
  • These huge, ancient mountains offer some opportunity for spiritual nourishment from nature & landscape, but almost without exception it's near impossible to find real peace & tranquility here, from high planes and wasp-like drones; the scream of motorbikes racing up the mountain passes; even just outdoor adventurers, chatting, laughing, shouting and calling to each other, to the endless background hum of cars winding their way around the valley lanes.  <br />
<br />
So during lockdown it was an incredible treat, a unique lifetime experience to find myself utterly alone in this magnificent landscape. No planes in the sky, not one vehicle on the road, empty lay-bys and no other sound of human voices. What I did hear, vividly & acutely, were the sounds of the wind in the trees & grasses, the chirping of birds and the trickling of water in tiny brooks. I've rarely felt as close to being at one with the planet. There are few things I will miss about lockdown, but the privilege of finding true solitude in normally busier landscapes, is definitely one of them.
    GD002670.jpg
  • These black, shiny, eroded and smoothed pillow lavas watch the endless earth cycle. The sands shift and shunt and move about endlessly and the wind ruffles surfaces. The sun bakes and the waves smash but still these ancient rocks just take it all in their stride, hardly changing over millennia.
    GD001118.jpg
  • Summer 2020, week after week of dreary wet weather in North Wales, occasionally positivity injected with a day or so of sunshine. <br />
<br />
We sat on the front at Dinas Dinlle watching dozens of holiday makers desperately trying to make the most of their staycation in the gloom. As a grandfather near the shore and a young Dad near the top of the shingle beach vainly tried to make damp kites fly for their hopeful kids, a squall of heavy rain slowly moved across the mountains of Yr Eifl - curtains of rain softening the ancient hills of the Hammer Tribes behind.
    GD002515.jpg
  • When the crowds have gone and the leagues of dog walkers have departed for tea, the beach releases its true magic. I’ve always been fascinated by the cleansing effect of an incoming tide. I love watching the mess of footprints disappear as a new virgin floor of sand smoothes its way up the beach in front of my eyes. It’s even better when evening pulls a dark blanket of silence over the noise pollution of the day.<br />
<br />
I crouched almost at sand level, the tripod legs repeatedly covered by salty water and I enabled the fast motion of the rapid tide to move everything in the image other than the ancient rocks themselves. I walked back across the huge beach and up along the deep river in darkness. True harmony.
    GD000585.jpg
  • Nominated in 2022 International Colour Awards<br />
<br />
Honourable Mention in 2022 International Colour Awards<br />
<br />
UNESCO World Heritage Site<br />
<br />
Subtle washes of sunlight permeate the winter gloom and illuminate isolated sections of this ancient Welsh landscape. Elidir Fawr becomes a snow-capped volcano and Y Garn sits solemnly in the shadows behind. A single crow flies across the void between me and the distant peaks, its call echoing sharply in the valley below.
    GD002005
  • There is something about being on a precipice, physically and metaphorically, that divides me. Part of me fears the void, fears the drop, yet it also fascinates me. At the same time I feel closest to life, to the amazing things, to good things, joy, happiness and elation. The precipice is a border, a fine line between the end or the future, it’s the stuff of dreams. At first I didn’t even notice the woman, petite, fragile, pale, leaning backwards against the cold rock, a thousand foot drop on three sides of her. But as my eyes focussed on this minuscule organic body in the centre of vast and ancient landscape I saw that she was basking in the afternoon sunlight, her arms spread wide and face towards the universe above. She seemed calm, content, giving herself up to the awareness of space, distance, earth and solitude, a spiritual awareness not of God but of her own existence.
    Exposed to the Light
  • The irresistible ocean from whence we came, draws us to it still. We stand, bathe, swim in the zone, the border to our very beginnings but now an alien environment. When I stand in the waves it’s so much more than just a physical experience; my mind too is somehow communicating with something really ancient, yet still so real, so permanent, so life affirming.
    Sensuous Overload
  • The rain was relentless, falling in vast sheets across the sombre Welsh hillsides, soaking the landscape and everything upon it. I’d just descended from the gale-blown summits where I’d not seen a soul, but I was more than happy in my wet solitude. I could hear a hidden river tumbling through dark rocks in the valley below.<br />
<br />
The wind drove the rain through the back of my waterproofs as I trudged down the tiny path back to habitation. It was near silent, no calls of birds or bleating of sheep, just the drumming of the downpour on my hood. <br />
<br />
I loved it all. Amidst these huge Welsh mountains that one-minute seemed imposing and soft like a watercolour the next, I felt alive in this huge valley, a tiny, isolated figure moving through an ancient glaciated landscape. These are times and conditions when you feel humbled by the elements and connected to the earth.
    GD002235.jpg
  • Nominated in 10th (2017) International Colour Awards (Nude category) <br />
<br />
“It was dusk and a gentle mist hung in the valleys, illuminated only by the last glimmer of Autumnal daylight. There was delicate moisture in the air and a slight dampness on the short grass surrounding the rock. Rich, earthy smells surrounded me, from the bracken and ancient woodland adjacent to the outcrop. Above the sound of a gurgling brook I could hear a thrush singing somewhere in the distance. Apart from that there was relative silence; no cars, no planes, no groups of chatty ‘ramblers on a mission’, just me in what felt like a lost valley. I was alone and had found perfect solitude. <br />
<br />
I enjoyed the feeling of the cool, almost prickly, sheep-mown grass on the soles of my feet, but the rock was warm having basked during a day of unbroken sunshine under clear blue skies.  Although the rocky outcrop looked smooth from a distance it was rough beneath my skin, making my body feel vulnerable to its sharp surface. I enjoyed the sensation nevertheless, feeling utterly and intimately connected to ‘my’ rock, a rock carved by glaciers millions of years ago, scratched and smoothed by the weight of ice, but today it was just me, an insignificant speck on the planet. Yet the planet means everything to me; I feel it, see it, and hear it. It provides for me, nourishes me and I am a part of it nevertheless. <br />
<br />
As the melody of the Song Thrush drifted away, I lay relaxed, supine, as much of my skin surface in contact with the rock as I could manage, facing the darkening universe above. The rock supported me, it seemed as if the Earth itself was carrying me, a fragile, perishable organic figure, exposed to the air and the elements but wonderfully connected to the land"
    Then Came Autumn
  • Pen yr Helgi Du is a mountain peak in the eastern part of the Carneddau in Snowdonia, North Wales. It lies on the south-eastern flanks of Carnedd Llewelyn,<br />
<br />
Sheets of torrential rain swept across these ancient Welsh hills after a beautiful, sunlit morning on the summits.
    GD000969.jpg
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Glyn Davies, Professional Photographer and Gallery

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