Glenn Mckimmin Gallery

Some of my favourite photographs were never planned.

You’re driving somewhere, heading for something completely different, and then you see a person, a place, a bit of light and you stop.

This little roadside workshop was one of those moments.

No location scout. No setup. No shot list. Just something that caught my eye and a person whose surroundings already told half the story.

Photography isn’t always about travelling to the famous places. Sometimes it’s about being curious enough to stop at the places everyone else drives past.

Keep looking. The stories are everywhere

So far, Sri Lanka has given us everything.

We started in Negombo, watching the fish markets come alive at dawn. Fishermen hauling in the catch, knives moving, scales everywhere. Then down to the coast and the Jetwing Lighthouse, a stunning old place right on the rocks at Galle. We photographed the Dutch fort in soft morning light and chased the stilt fishermen at sunset, that iconic shot everyone dreams of.

From there it was inland to Gal Oya for wild glamping. A boat ride across the lake at golden hour, and then the moment we came for. Elephants swimming across open water right in front of us. You don’t forget that.

And through all of it, the white background work. Meeting the people, setting up the sheet, and letting their faces tell the story.

But the honest truth is this. The photography has been incredible. The people have been even better.

This group is up for anything. Every early start, every long drive, every plan that changed. No complaints, just yes. That’s rare, and it’s the thing that turns a good trip into a great one.

More to come.

The Vedda People

We’re staying in Rathugala, deep in the forest country of eastern Sri Lanka. This is Vedda country.

The Vedda are the indigenous people of this island. The name comes from an old word for hunter. Forest people. They’ve been here longer than anyone can remember, and they still carry themselves the old way. An axe slung over the shoulder, nothing else.

I spent the last couple of days with them, doing the thing I love most. Finding the stories nobody tells. Setting up the white sheet in the middle of their world and letting their faces do the talking.

This is why I travel. Not for the landmarks. For the people. The cultures still holding on, and the faces that carry the whole history of a place.

Another chapter of the project. Another story worth keeping.

Life doesn’t always go the way you expect it to. Mine certainly hasn’t. But somewhere along the way I stopped waiting for it to, and started doing the thing I actually love. That changed everything.

These are the men who cut fish at the Negombo market in Sri Lanka. A white sheet, a bit of light, and a face. It looks like a little thing.

But this body of work is years in the making. A patience and passion project built on one simple idea. To capture culture and life the way it really is, and give you a different perspective on people you might otherwise walk straight past.

I get to guide people into cultures they’d never see alone. Learning from them. That’s the part I love most.

So keep trying. Do the thing you love. The little things add up to a whole life.

I wore my Meta glasses into the fish market in Negombo, Sri Lanka so you could see exactly how I find a frame.

The footage is raw. Me walking the stalls, nothing staged, nobody posing for me. Just looking. Watching where the light falls, watching the hands work.

And then the final image at the end. The split second when everything lines up and you just know.

Most people only ever see the finished photograph. They never see the looking that came before it.

That’s the part I love. The search, the timing, the one frame you keep.

Fish cutters, first light, Negombo, Sri Lanka.

You can chase things your whole life and end up with a house full of stuff that means nothing. The stuff was never the point.

The point is the people. The places. The moments you were lucky enough to stand in, and the pictures that let you keep them forever.

That’s why I shoot these white backdrop portraits. No scenery. No distractions. Nothing in the frame except a person and their story.

An Eagle Hunter’s face. Sixty years of mountain weather in every line. An eagle calm as stone on a leather glove. And me, quiet, trying to freeze it before it slips away.

Things don’t mean anything at the end. Experiences do. And a photograph is the only way I know to hold onto an experience forever.

Shot this in my office. Bad lighting. Didn’t care.

Here’s something I’ve been sitting on.

Every photographer I know is arguing about AI right now. It’s destroying creativity. It’s the only future. Pick a side. Pick a tribe.

I think both sides are wrong.

AI is here. It’s not going anywhere. The question isn’t whether you use it. The question is whether you’re honest about it. And whether the thing you’re actually saying is true.

I posted a carousel today about a white backdrop, a guy named Richard Avedon, and why the real thing still matters. That’s the first half of this conversation. Go look at it.

The second half is coming. It’s about where the line actually is between the tool and the truth. And why most people are too busy taking sides to actually find it.

Stick around.