Frozen in Time: Two Faces of London

Street photography is often described as freezing time but after all my years of shooting, I can tell you it’s not quite that dramatic. I’m not some magician stopping the universe with a shutter click. What I’m really doing is grabbing hold of a split second before it vanishes, usually while someone behind me is muttering that I’m standing in the way.

The first image, taken in Canary Wharf, is all about rhythm and order. The clocks are lined up like drill sergeants, barking the time at anyone who dares walk past. People stream below them, each in their own little rush- office workers, tourists, people heading for a Pret sandwich. I framed it from above to exaggerate the contrast: the clinical precision of the clocks against the unpredictable flow of human traffic. That’s London in a nutshell, time’s always rigid, people never are.

The second image, shot near Tower Bridge, is the opposite: absolute chaos. Pigeons exploding into the air, wings blurring across the frame, a child caught somewhere between excitement and confusion. Two women are in the shot as well, one caught up in the scene, the other completely detached. If Canary Wharf was about order, this is about mess. It’s unpredictable, funny, and very real. Honestly, pigeons don’t care about your composition they’re just going to do what they want, and sometimes that’s the whole point.

Both photos were made with the Fujifilm X100F, a camera that’s become a permanent fixture in my street kit. It’s small, discreet, and fast three things you desperately need when the difference between a keeper and a missed shot is less than a second. The X100F doesn’t freeze time for you, but it gets out of your way so you can.

And that’s the real heart of it: freezing time isn’t about technical wizardry, it’s about instincts. Knowing when to anticipate, when to react, and when to trust that the pigeons will eventually give you something to work with.