I'm a Cornishman. My family is Cornish as far back as I can trace. I lived there in my early years before we moved frequently, both around England and overseas, as my dad served in the military. Walking came early with that life: coastal paths back home, mountain trails in Wales, time in the Swiss Alps when we lived in Germany. Being outdoors was never a hobby — it was just normal.
Over time, walking became more than something to do. It cleared my head, but I also simply liked being outside — hiking, camping, covering miles without much fuss.
These days I'm based in Buckinghamshire, working as a black and white rural landscape photographer documenting the Chiltern Hills and the wider English countryside. The woodlands, the villages, the footpaths worn by centuries of use — I photograph them, document the walks, and read about the history of the places I return to. What started as regular walks has become the centre of a serious creative practice, one that has produced an extensive archive of black and white rural documentary photography rooted in a landscape I've come to know in genuine depth.
Black and white sits at the centre of how I work. I was drawn to it long before I took photography seriously, through old family albums I still keep. People often call black and white "timeless," but that word has never sat comfortably with me. For me it's about character — tone, structure, and a directness that colour sometimes softens. Shooting exclusively in black and white, and always in JPEG rather than raw, means every decision is made in the moment rather than in post-processing. What the camera sees is what the image becomes.
The photography follows the walk, not the other way around. I'm a walker who photographs, not a photographer who walks — and that distinction matters. I choose a route and go. I don't get the luxury of chasing perfect light — I head out when I can, fitting walks and photography around work and whatever else life throws at the week. If that means harsh midday sun instead of golden hour, then that's what I work with. Over time you learn to use the conditions you're given, and to appreciate the fact you're out at all. I don't force a scene. If something stops me, I photograph it.
I shoot handheld wherever possible — a tripod slows the walk down and breaks the flow, and the walk always comes first. That's not laziness or a lack of care, it's a deliberate choice. The photography is taken just as seriously, it just has to fit around the way I work.
Through the website and the work around it, I discovered something unexpected: I enjoy writing. What began as blog posts and short notes to accompany photographs gradually turned into longer reflections — not just on the walks themselves, but on photography, repetition, returning to the same places, and how both walking and image-making fit into everyday life. Over time that led to longer projects — books that explore those ideas more fully rather than simply documenting where I've been. My first book, More Than a Pretty Picture — Finding Peace, Purpose and Creative Sovereignty Through Photography, was published in 2026. Writing has become another part of the practice, running alongside the photography rather than sitting behind it.
The line on the homepage sums it up: "Walking brings me peace, photography gives me purpose and connection."
Photography — along with Elvis, my dog — gives me the reason to head out.
Walking With Pics is about black and white rural photography rooted in the Chiltern Hills, Buckinghamshire, and the wider English countryside. It's about looking closely at familiar places, spending time in them properly, and documenting what everyday rural England actually looks like — not the version that exists only in perfect light at famous locations, but the real, working, walked-through version. If it encourages someone to explore their local surroundings a little more deliberately, then it's doing what it should.
— Mark