Since I returned from beautiful Georgia (the country), the weather in London had been pretty grim and depressing. It rained almost every day and it was generally cold and grey most of the time.

The works of authors depicting the first ascent of the tallest peak in the world in the early 1900s “reflect[ed] dreams of hidden other worlds or vertical wastelands." After all, these writers were storytellers, seeking a story that would captivate worldly audiences. They did not lie, nor transcribe the events in a malicious manner, but their search for the twist that would set their story apart from the rest left a hole in the truth. In the essay “Sharp End,” published in the magazine The Alpinist, Katie Ives follows Tibetan local and author of We Tibetans, Lhamo, and with the accompaniment of Ethan Welty’s photography, illustrates the tradeoff between an honest portrait of foreign culture for a more interesting story.

When our photos have the ability to travel far and wide, and reach people in the middle of nowhere, we think of success, thanks to social media outlets like Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter, Instagram; the list goes on. We change people's hearts and minds in an instant, because of our worthy attempts to be an outstanding photographer, capturing beauty, innocence, peace, the laugh of a child.

Who am I?

I started my day packing up my things, It was Sunday and I was ready to go back to work, drive back from Sydney to Canberra.

I don't have a great camera or even a great eye. So I try to look closely at things. Take the background away or the foreground and see what I want to see. Sometimes it isn't easy but when the mood strikes me I have always been able to get a great shot close to where I am. Even a poor subject can reward the photographer if you take it from various angles or lights.

I've always been a big fan of street photography, from those candid shots of unsuspecting people, to interesting framing of widely-known landmarks. But there is one specific type of shot that has always perplexed me: those shots that seem to drag into infinity, with almost no one in them. Long, deserted avenues, bridges, and tunnels. Pictures that, the more you look, the more you fall into.

Everybody has a passion in life that brings them copious amounts of joy. We all seek to have an aesthetic that we'd love to develop and mould in order to create something beautiful on a daily basis. For me, especially as of late, has been photography. Having a best friend who lives and breathes her photography inspired me to pursue and nurture my love for it.

"Isn't everybody just a bit more than we think they are?" I read something like that a long time ago. It stuck with me, and it has changed the way I've looked at every person I meet.

Have you ever thought, "What makes a 'great' candid shot?" Or, "What do I need to learn to take a great candid shot?"

I've always been a creative/arty kid since high school, but I just wasn't able to find a medium that really resonated with me in terms of how I wanted to express myself as a creator/artist. Throughout the years, my practice ranged from pencil, charcoal, and pastel drawings to acrylic, water-colour, and oil paintings, none of which seemed to work as well as I hoped. Sure they were beautiful in their own ways, however there was a personal connection with the media that was lacking.

We all look for ways that we connect with nature. For me, it was always on the back of a horse, even as a young child. I was raised in Gordon, Nebraska on a ranch where either one of my parents had me and my sister in the saddle with them herding cattle. Since then my sister and I would always go and visit our grandparents every summer connecting with horses and connecting with nature. Our love for connection and with nature grew as we were allowed to go horseback riding for hours in the Nebraska Sandhills. I remember this one year we rode all day until sunset. We sat on our horses and just connected with where we were at, watching a rainbow of colors dance across the western slopes of the Sandhills. That was the last time we rode together as kids.