Portraits of Belonging.
This series explores the relationships between people and place. Each portrait is taken in a location chosen by the subject - an outdoor space that holds personal meaning. By photographing individuals within environments, they feel connected to, the images reveal how landscapes can become extensions of identity, memory and everyday life.
Abbie
“Bigbury Beach holds so many important memories for me. I have strong childhood memories there, and I still visit with friends now, so it carriers both nostalgia and new happiness. Being there makes me feel calm and grounded, and I love swimming in the sea whenever I can. There’s something about the sound of the waves and the openness of the landscape that instantly settles me. It feels like home – a place where I am completely comfortable and at ease. I don’t feel the need to be anything other than myself there. Every time I leave, I feel lighter, clearer and more connected to both my past and present.”
Michael
“Longtimber Woods feels like a quiet exhale for my brain, with the river and trees slowing everything down in the best way. I always leave feeling calmer and refreshed, like I’ve had a proper reset before stepping back into everyday life.”
Dzenija
“Abbot Woods in Eastbourne represents a sense of belonging for me. The woodland reminds me of the forests back in Latvia, which makes me feel connected to home even when I am far away. I visit the woods throughout all the seasons. I often bring my friends and family but never without my four-legged companion, Poppy. Being there makes me feel peaceful, happy, and connected both to nature and to the memories of where I come from.”
Jaiyana
“Clarity isn’t always the point for me, especially at Cadover Bridge. It carries the weight of childhood memories, when life felt slower and uncomplicated and the afternoons stretched without urgency. Back then, the river, the rocks, the open moorland all felt endless, not in scale but in possibility. When I stand there now, distance softens everything again. The noise of adulthood quietens and something steadier returns. What might look empty to someone else feels full to me, layered with laughter, scraped knees, cold water and a version of myself that moved through the world more lightly. If I stay long enough, I can almost feel that calm settle back into my chest. I’m reminded that some things were always there, waiting patiently for me to notice them again.”
Dasa
