🐾 The Start of Something Ruff

It started, like most good things, sitting in the back garden on a crisp spring morning, drinking coffee and reading my copy of Lochs and Legends: A Scotsman's Guide to the Heart of Scotland by Andy the Highlander. The way he tells a story with words — I wanted to do that, but with the photos I make. I wanted to tell stories like that — not with words, but with light, shadow, and stillness.

The more you get to know me, the more you’ll come to realise coffee is my fuel and keeps me going haha.

Anyway, I wasn’t planning on launching anything that day or at all — hell, I was still waking up and only on my first coffee, if you know me you know it takes 3 cups at least to get going, but something about that moment made me pause and think: There’s something here worth holding onto.

Ruff Draft Studio wasn’t a flash of inspiration. It unfolded slowly through long drives, early mornings, and mist-covered hills. It’s come together over time, built from a love of the wild and the need to create something thoughtful and lasting. A studio rooted in nature and made with intention.

I’ve been a graphic designer for years, working at TUC Cymru by day, designing toolkits, posters, infographics, and fliers, often with a camera in hand at events and rallies, capturing moments of history within the trade union movement in Wales. I even handle tech support at our big events. But outside of the 9-5, when I let my “hair” down (not that I’ve got much to speak of, haha), that’s when I find my quiet. That’s when photography steps in.

Photography gives me peace. It slows the mind, settles the noise, and reminds me to breathe. It’s not about being a pro or ticking boxes, it’s about presence. I don’t label myself a professional photographer, though I’ve sold a few prints, shot weddings, and was even commissioned for PR portraits ahead of the Senedd elections in 2026. I guess I’d say I’m semi-professional, in the most human way.

The turning point? It came in flashes, a hike up Ben Nevis in 2016, when I realised my iPhone just couldn’t capture what I felt. Years of travel to Germany, Canada, and Cyprus, to name a few, and barely a photo to show for it. That itch stayed with me until 2018 or 2019, when that Ben Nevis memory came back around on Facebook, and I knew: I needed a real camera.

Things clicked again in 2023. I was in Fort William, then Inverness, passing storefronts filled with images not so different from the ones I was making. And for the first time, I thought, Maybe I’m not an impostor. Maybe I can do this. The same thing happened again in Stirling in 2024 — but the moment it really clicked was back in the garden, book in hand, coffee beside me.

The name itself? A bit of wordplay, yes — it hints at my love of dogs (I lost my boy a couple of years ago and haven’t met the right one yet), but also a nod to honest beginnings, the creative process, and the belief that sometimes the best ideas are the ones that grow slowly.

Planning a shoot usually starts with a stack of maps, a couple of well-loved guidebooks, and a bit of online digging (pun intended 😉) — Instagram, Pinterest, even Google Earth. I lean on books like Photographing South Wales, North Wales, and Scotland, all of which have led me to places that have quite literally taken my breath away. When I start vlogging, you’ll see it — I’m not exactly built for mountaineering, and I apologise in advance for the puffing and wheezing haha.

And once I’m out there, I let the moment guide me. Sometimes it’s a clifftop with golden hour pouring over the sea. Other times it’s a grey, gusty hill with just enough atmosphere to make something magical. I don’t chase perfection. I chase feeling.

Back in the studio, I go through each image one at a time. I don’t batch process or rush the edit — each photo deserves its own space, its own voice. I want to preserve the mood, not overwrite it. I want the viewer to feel something that I felt when I pressed the shutter.

I don’t mind what someone feels when they see one of my prints. It doesn’t have to match my experience — it just has to speak to them in its own way. Art’s like that. It travels differently for each of us. If something I’ve made resonates with you, then we’ve already made a connection and started a conversation. And that means everything.

Ruff Draft Studio isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being present. And maybe — someday — it’ll grow into something more. Maybe I’ll get to share tutorials, tips, or even buy a little van and take this full-time, driving across the UK with a camera in hand, knowing the work I love is paying the way. For now, I’m happy to go with the flow and see how far I can take it, with your help.

Thanks for being here. Really.