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Life & objects around us have a unique beauty, if you can learn to see it.

“Let us see newness in flight, the new moments formless act before it hardens into recognition…..”

Bertram Brooker, Painting Verbs… author, poet, painter

#photo by Robie Seth

Richard J Wright is based in Hong Kong & Vancouver

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WHAT MAKES THIS PHOTOGRAPHER

​Photography has interested me since my early childhood.  I remember watching my Nana looking down into the top of her little Kodak Brownie box camera and seeing the unusual square shapes it produced.

Inspired to follow her example I become a happy snapper with wild abandon for many years. Moving to Hong Kong, the emotion, complexity and sheer overwhelming nature of the city captivated me.  It was here and in my wider travels that my “snapping” evolved into a more refined study of life.

Life is temporal, it is here and now.  It can be visceral it can be demure.  It can be mundane or exceptional, sometimes both at the same time depending on your situation. Photography can be like that as well. The stories my images tell are of life and journeys taken - they are the visual essays of life seen, stories told.  

I create fine art prints for exhibitions & sale, and also chronicle portraits of individuals, families, children, corporate settings and even pets. Please send me an email or reach out on social media to arrange a booking.

"Emergence" - Bertram Brooker

let us be new;
but not as babies are
who cling immediately to lollipops
craving continual sweetness
and, born to the sin of imitation,
play mothers and fathers

let us see newness in flight
the new moment's formless act
before it hardens into recognition
and becomes butterfly, bottle, street-car tracks,
or the definite, labelled shriek
of a factory whistle

let us forget, for instance, street-cars
and when one plunges
redly rushing out of a subway
let us see newness of rushing redness
pure emergent crimson
faster-springing than dawn
and splintered with colourless oblongs
that come afire with sunshine

let us see headlongness
pouring itself rectangularly
and feel the jarring roar
as the drums of our blood are felt
beating the incredibly swift, inevitable march
that is our own whole formless forward-going.