The Christmas dinner plates are cleared. The wrapping paper is (mostly) in the bin. There is a collective lull in the house, a heaviness that comes from too much pudding and the warm hum of the central heating. It is tempting to sink into the sofa and let the television take over for the afternoon.

It's easy to look at a natural history collection and see only the objects—a tray of colourful butterflies, a shelf of geological samples, or, in this case, a small pinned Ground Beetles (Carabidae).

When we look at life, it often feels like a sprawling, disorganised mess. Goals are scattered, priorities are piled on top of each other, and the sheer volume of "stuff" can be overwhelming. It's a bit like looking into an entomologist's specimen box when it's fallen into disarray.

This is section one on this blog post another section is to follow on how the subject was photographed

If you're serious about still life, product, or natural history photography, you know that the technical skill of the photographer is just as important as the subject itself. That's why I am such a huge fan of the work put out by [Camera Club Live]. Quite simply, he is one of the best in his field, and his entire YouTube collection is an incredible, ever-growing resource for anyone looking to master controlled lighting.In this video, Bubble-infused macro photography [00:00], he maintains his signature approach: clear, concise, and utterly straightforward advice. No filler, just pure, actionable wisdom. If you’re like me and appreciate a presenter who gets straight to the point, he is the benchmark for high-quality instruction.

Nestled among the historic spires of Oxford, the Oxford University Museum of Natural History often finds itself overshadowed by its grander, more renowned counterpart in London. Yet, this charming museum possesses a unique allure, demonstrating that size isn't the sole factor in igniting curiosity and wonder. Its more intimate scale allows for an incredibly creative and engaging display of the natural world, offering a truly exceptional experience.

In an age of digital everything, there's something profoundly captivating about a physical collection of natural history. The image before us – a beautifully arranged entomological display – isn't just a box of insects; it's a meticulously crafted narrative, a frozen moment in time that speaks volumes about our planet's past and present.

You know that one subject? The one that just sits there, taunting you, judging your entire photographic existence? For me, for two decades, that subject has been a rather magnificent, albeit motionless, Grooved-Bill Toucanet.

AI is officially here, not just as a cool filter on your phone, but as a genuine, transformative force in the world of photography. It's an exciting, mind-bending shift, but as someone who’s has spent decades learning behind the lens, I can't help but feel a tremor of anxiety beneath the buzz. I’m not against change—after all, if we resisted, we'd still be painting on cave walls—but we need to talk about the hidden costs and ethical sinkholes.

Sometimes, the best natural history subjects aren't found in a far-flung jungle or a specialised lab—they're right under your nose. This past summer, my focus shifted from macro photography to domestic documentary: finally tackling the long-promised garden renovation my wife had been asking for.

The world of macro photography—where tiny subjects become titans—often seems gated by expensive, specialised gear. However, the path to incredible close-ups often starts with the lens you already own: the versatile 50mm standard lens.

Welcome back to my studio! For years, my passion has been teaching others to see the world with intention, and nowhere is that intention more critical than in the specialised world of studio macro photography. Today, I want to pull back the curtain on the technical process I use to transform tiny insects into monumental subjects, a process centred around the technique of focus stacking.

Welcome! If you've ever felt frustrated chasing fleeting moments in the wild or struggling to capture the awe-inspiring detail of the natural world, you’ve come to the right place. My decades in documentary photography and the last twenty-five years dedicated to education have led me to one profound truth: the most dramatic natural history images are often made, not found.