A Window into Forty Hall

Every photographer has places that become more than just backdrops. For me, Forty Hall has shifted from being a subject to something closer to a second home.

The first image the view framed by the old window, is a reminder of why I started coming here in the first place. It isn’t just about the light, the reflections, or the geometry of the frame. It’s about how the place makes you stop. Inside, there’s calm. Outside, the park keeps moving. That contrast is what I look for when I press the shutter.

The second image pulls you back outside with the hall sitting against heavy skies, half-hidden by the trees. It’s not a tourist shot, not a postcard view. It’s a lived-in perspective, the kind you only find when you return again and again. And I have. Over the years I’ve grown attached to this place, not just for what it offers visually, but for the people behind it.

Because here’s the truth: places like Forty Hall don’t run on their own. They stay alive because of the people who care the ones who open the doors, keep the grounds, organise events, and make sure the history doesn’t just fade into a plaque on the wall. Without them, the building would be just another piece of old architecture. With them, it’s a space that breathes.

That’s why it matters to me that Forty Hall has become the home of my monthly photo courses. Teaching here isn’t just about passing on technique or talking cameras. It’s about grounding photography in a space with history, character, and a community around it. Every student who comes here isn’t just learning exposure or framing, they’re experiencing a place that has its own story, and adding a little piece of theirs to it.

Photography, at its best, isn’t separate from life. It’s stitched into it, the places we keep returning to, the people who make them matter, and the moments we carry away. For me, Forty Hall has become one of those threads. A place I photograph, a place I teach, and a place that keeps teaching me in return.