Forever January

A photography & travel journal

Notes from places where the light stays low.

Winter coastlines, early trains, cold hands, warm cafés. Updated whenever a roll of film comes back with something worth keeping.

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Reine, Lofoten. 35 mm, f/8, two seconds on a borrowed tripod.

Blue hour on the Lofoten shore

The sun never quite made it over the ridge, which turned out to be the point. For forty minutes the whole harbour sat in that deep, even blue that film handles better than I do. I stood on the pier with the tripod leg wedged against a bollard and shot the same frame eleven times, changing nothing but my mind.

Practical notes: the ferry from Bodø runs twice a day in winter, the bakery opens at eight, and nobody minds if you stand in the road for a photograph as long as you wave.

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Biei, Hokkaido. Minus nineteen, and the shutter still fired.

The quiet side of Hokkaido

I took the slow train from Asahikawa with a thermos and no plan beyond getting off where the fields looked widest. The snow absorbs sound the way a darkroom absorbs light; you can hear your own film advance from a field away.

Cold-weather notes for anyone trying this: keep the spare rolls inside your coat, wind slowly, and accept that the last three frames of every roll will be of your own feet while you look for the car.

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Old town rooftops, Tbilisi. Shot from a stairwell that smelled of bread.

Three mornings in Tbilisi

Every street ends in a staircase and every staircase ends in someone's balcony. I gave up on the map on the first morning and let the city decide. The sulphur baths are exactly as warm as everyone says; the view from above them is better than any of the postcards sold next to the door.

A shopkeeper on Betlemi Street asked what the camera was. When I said it only took thirty-six pictures a roll, he nodded like that was the correct number.

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About

Forever January is one person, two cameras and a preference for the months everyone else stays indoors. The photographs are made on film, scanned at the kitchen table and posted here with short notes about where they came from.

There is no newsletter and nothing to buy, although a few prints exist and occasionally find new homes. If you recognise a place and think I have the name wrong, you are probably right.