“I’ve always loved to travel and have lugged cameras all over the world with me. Over time, I realised my holiday snaps were becoming more observational, focused on the people and places I’ve encountered.”
From a young age, cameras were a constant in Liv’s life. Raised in the ’90s, she was part of the point-and-shoot boom, where compact cameras were all the rage. “I’d take them on family holidays up the coast and loved bringing the rolls to the local pharmacy to get developed,” she recalls.
When the lomography craze hit, Liv dove in headfirst. For the uninitiated, lomography is an intentionally imperfect, oversaturated approach to film photography that thrives on unpredictability. “I had several Lomo cameras during the Lomography heyday—Fisheye, Diana Mini, LCA+, Holga 120N. I loved experimenting with the effects. This was pre-Instagram filters, remember.”
Though she didn’t fully realise it then, Liv was drawn to the nostalgia of these analogue devices. Digital may be easier, cheaper, and more reliable, but it lacks that air of mystery.“There’s something special about loading a roll and not seeing your work until it’s back from the lab. It takes the overthinking out of it.”
Spend time with Liv’s photography, and that spontaneity shines through. Her frames feel unplanned, observational, and full of quiet movement. In one shot, a man overloaded with luggage rushes past a train at a remote Peruvian station. In another scene, two elderly men sunbathe by the sea, mid-conversation. Liv’s images aren’t overly stylised. They feel more like a travel journal—snapshots of moments that would otherwise be forgotten. A gondolier drifts past a narrow Venetian alley. Peaches catch rays on a towel. Laundry flutters in a Greek afternoon breeze.
