Is there an English setting more elusive, or intoxicating than the West Country?

This enriched land was never meant to be a fleeting experience.  It demands surrender… inhaled like a nerve agent, the end of the line.

The land itself is not the subject, it’s about what's possible…  the untapped, unseen, and yet-to-be - An entire region driven mad by potential.

With four thousand years of human endurance buried beneath us, this volatile condition detonates a bewitching toll… thumping like a broken heart, rallying the lawless for another night on the cobbles.  It cannot be tamed - It won’t be silenced. For centuries it anticipates a stampede of dreamers, drunk on the scent of freedom, chasing a wild & unrestrained existence… for any reason to belong.  A truly breath-taking disturbance.

The cameras stand witness, but serve as an excuse for orchestrating such convergences - Cultivating memory, suspended in perpetual motion, everything in the steps of the ancestors.  They justify an endless exchange of effort & intimacy - a melting pot of performance, passion, revelry, ritual, and human connection.

I love it when the dancing swirls, the colors burst and the laughter howls - when the food and wine flows and the land flourishes and thrills beneath a smoky sun.  I love it when all of these things come together like a dream… when visitors notice my cameras in the distance and realise they are part of an artistic work…  and in a leap of faith, they rise to the occasion.