THE ICM DIARIES
Where blur becomes magic and stories live in the shadows.
EXCERPTS FROM THE DIARIES
These aren’t just photographs — they’re moments I caught while the world wasn’t watching. Excerpts from my ICM diaries: some blur with laughter, others shimmer with silence, but all of them have a story to tell.
Enjoy them and then take one home — explore INK & ECHO →
LEARN WITH ME ONLINE AND ALIVE!
I run live online workshops in Intentional Camera Movement (ICM). Flexible start dates, 1:1 or small groups. Learn the blur, feel the flow, and jiggle into your own style with heart and humour.I shoot exclusively in black and white - not because I dislike colour, but because my ADHD brain finds clarity in contrast. Stripping out colour lets me focus on light, emotion, and story. But your ICM journey can be as colourful (or as monochrome) as you like.
HI! I'M ALEX
I'm an ADHD-fuelled photographer and author chasing motion and emotion. ICM lets me tell stories with jiggles, squiggles and streaks and I take my art (but not myself) seriously. I teach, I laugh. Often.
WHISPERS FROM THE MARGINS
WELCOME TO WHISPERS FROM THE MARGINSThis is where the curtain lifts. No filter, no polish, just the rhythm of a real life lived in squiggles and streaks and ADHD-fuelled detours. Here you’ll find quiet updates, unplanned victories and also failures, odd happenings and whatever else spills out when the coffee kicks in. Sometimes it’s about art, sometimes it’s about life. But always, it’s about connection, because this isn’t just a site, it’s a story in motion. And you’re in it now, these are the whispers I’d tell you if we were walking side by side. Thanks for being here.
📖Friday April 18th 2025
The Most Boring Week of Billy’s LifeSpent the week glued to my laptop, building a beautiful new home for my blur-filled world. I learned more about markdown than I ever wanted to, reshuffled images in my sleep and survived on drank coffee.
Billy declared it the most boring week of his life and lodged several formal complaints (which were generally ignored).
But it’s done. And it’s beautiful.~ ~ ~
— A
📖Saturday April 19th 2025
Like the Lost Guests in the AlleywayGetting ready to send the site out into the world, but only to a small circle of trusted souls - the brave beta testers.
Then I’ll be sitting here, waiting for feedback like one of the lost guests from the alleyway…biting my nails, pretending I’m fine, refreshing the inbox like it's a slot machine.
Please let there be no broken links. Please let Marlene’s shoe story be funny enough. Please let the ghosts behave.~ ~ ~
— A.
THE VISUAL CHAPTERS
WELCOME TO THE VISUAL CHAPTERS
This is a quiet rebellion against sharp edges and neat boxes, a place where stories blur, light dances, and ghosts appear uninvited. Each image is a chapter from the ICM Diaries, always captured in-camera, choosing emotion over precision, and poetry over perfection.Every streak, shimmer and silhouette holds a truth, almost there, almost not.All images - and more - will soon be available as fine art cards and prints.Each chapter has a tale to tell. Read the full entries ➜
THE ADHD OLYMPICS
This is freestyle urban navigation, no rules, just chaos...
MAX AND THE ICE CREAM DASH
Max had exactly 3 minutes and 47 seconds to get home before his ice-cream melted...
THE SECRET STRUDEL SHORTCUT
Klara wasn't supposed to leave the shop, but Frau Dietrich, the queen of unsolicited complaints was demanding her favourite Afpelstrudel...
The Accidental Blur Icon
There I was, lurking in a doorway in the rain, like any good chaos-loving photographer, when this umbrella-wielding human clocked me...
WHEN STRANGERS BECOME STORIES
Early morning in Bolzano. She's late for work, her mind already in motion. He is not in a rush, just his dog, the cool air and and old rhythm...
IN THE ALLEY OF ALMOSTS
On bright days, they say, the ghosts don’t hide.
They shimmer. They trail. They walk among us — bold as brass and twice as blurry...
THERE'S A KIND OF HUSH
Salzburg moves gently at this hour, a soft rustle of coats, the hush of footsteps on stone. No urgency, just the quiet rhythm of locals finding their way through the light, before the tourists come...
WHEN THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH
She never looked up, not once. The world around her shifted, danced, blurred into softness, but her gaze stayed fixed on the screen. A half-presence. A ghost of the now....
When the world is too much, we hide in plain sight. See the Hidden Faces Series →
THE RITUAL
He takes his time, hands behind his back, reading the menu he knows by heart. He’s not hungry yet. Not really. He’s just doing what he always does...
RIDING THROUGH THE LENS OF TIME
They sped past me in a streak of childhood, seven riders, seven moments, but only four held shape long enough to be remembered...
THRESHOLD
There are moments that don't feel like walking, they feel like being drawn. Past the familiar, bikes resting, walls aging, towards something unnamed...
THE LOST GUESTS
This alley wasn’t on the map. Neither were they. They were guests on last night’s ghost tour...
THE GHOST OF WORKSHOPS PAST
It was a foggy evening in Bolzano, the kind where even your breath looks like it's trying to escape...
SHOES OF REGRET
Marlene made a huge mistake when she bought shoes online. They were described as 'ergonomically aerodynamic cloudwalkers'...
THE HUDDLE
For a moment they were a single living shape and in that blur of limbs and decisions about museums or ice-cream, I saw what I always look for - the ordinary becoming a story...
ALMOST SILENCE
Mozartplatz, just after sunrise. The air is still cool, the square impossibly wide and empty, and I’m not sure why I’m here so early - until she arrives.
Want to read the whole diary entries? Read them here ➜
THE WHOLE STORY
THE DIARIES UNFOLDED
THE ADHD OLYMPICSADHD Olympics
Welcome to the ADHD Olympics — a freestyle event with no lanes, no finish line, and no one entirely sure why we entered or where we’re meant to be going. The rules? There are none. The sport? Urban navigation with bonus points for sudden U-turns, impulse detours, and forgetting what we were doing halfway across the street.This scene - all limbs, motion, and glorious confusion - was captured in the wild during peak mental gymnastics. That one foot, mid-leap with no visible owner? Could be a bystander, could be mine. No idea. We’ve all blurred into each other at this point.Every streak, every wobble, every off-kilter fragment is a love letter to the restless mind. This is not a mistake. It’s movement as metaphor. It’s what life looks like when your brain juggles seventeen tabs and none of them are still loading.Gold medal for showing up!
MAX AND THE ICE-CREAM DASHMax had exactly 3 minutes and 47 seconds to get home before his ice cream surrendered to the sun. It was a scientific equation in motion: wind speed, terrain, the erratic wobble of his ancient bike, all carefully factored in.His plan was flawless until he reached the cobblestones.That infernal medieval mess of a road bucked under him like it had a personal grudge. Max clenched the handlebars tighter, his eyes locked on the horizon. Somewhere back there, he’d dropped both his dignity and a flip-flop.But he didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Not when the fate of dessert, no, the fate of summer joy itself - was on the line.And when he finally reached his door, sweat-soaked, panting, and gloriously sticky, he raised the cone to the sky like a trophy. Slightly melted? Yes. Entirely deserved? Absolutely.Some say you can't outrun fate. Max says you can, but only just.
THE SECRET STRUDEL SHORTCUTKlara wasn’t supposed to leave the shop. Technically, she was just meant to “pop into the storeroom” for more napkins. But when Frau Dietrich – Salzburg’s self-appointed Strudel Inspector General – demanded Apfelstrudel with “extra cinnamon, like last Tuesday,” Klara knew it was either escape or be steamrolled.The last slice had mysteriously vanished (“probably Marta, again,” muttered the boss), and there was only one place in town that might still have it.And so Klara, in her black, heat-trapping polyester uniform, dove into the side streets like a cinnamon-fuelled fugitive. The tourists never use these alleyways, but she knew every shortcut, past the crooked window, left at the house that smells of cabbage, over the squeaky cobblestone...There! The bakery!She was one breath away from victory when she saw it.The queue.Twelve deep. Three tourists ordering in painfully slow German. One lady asking if they sell gluten-free Krapfen. A child melting down over apricot jam. Klara stared in disbelief, wondering if she could crawl under the display counter and vanish forever.Back at the shop, Frau Dietrich was almost certainly sharpening her complaint pen and readying her war face.Could Klara risk it all for a cinnamon roll instead?Would anyone survive the fallout?No one knows what happened next.But the scent of defiance and vanilla sugar still lingers in that alley to this day.
THE ACCIDENTAL BLUR ICONThere I was, lurking in a doorway like any good chaos-loving photographer, when this umbrella-wielding human clocked me!
They pivoted with military precision, swung their umbrella toward my lens like a blur-fighting warrior…and marched out of frame like it was a protest parade. What they didn’t know:It was already too late. I’d flipped their indignation and turned their protest into performance art.
Because that’s what ICM does.It gives you the story without the scandal, the energy without the evidence and the moment, not the mugshot. This is art. Blur accordingly!
WHEN STRANGERS BECOME STORIESShe’s late. The tram was packed, her coffee went cold, and her manager already has warned her once this week. But she’s walking fast now, head down, earbuds in, the same playlist she uses to drown out the world.
He’s not late, his mornings are slow and his dog sets the pace. He walks the same route every day. Same coat, same café stop, same tiny notebook where he jots down lines of poetry he’ll never show anyone.
She doesn’t see him coming. He sees her.
In another world, he’d let her pass. But today his dog pulls the lead a little harder. Just enough to shift him sideways and into her path.
She stops, looks up and for the first time this morning, she’s pulled out of her own head.
What happens next?
Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. Maybe she’ll write about it in her journal tonight. Maybe he’ll give her a poem.
IN THE ALLEY OF ALMOSTSOn bright days, they say, the ghosts don’t hide.They shimmer. They trail. They walk among us, bold as brass and twice as blurry.
This little street in Salzburg’s old town has always been a portal. Not haunted exactly, just…busy. Between dimensions.
The one disappearing stage left? That’s Erika, she crossed into our world in 1883 to fetch her missing hat and never quite left. The two heading our way? Probably late for the Ethereal Ethics Committee, they hate tardiness but love a good sunbeam.
You can’t see them unless you blur a little.
(But you do blur....don’t you?)
THERE'S A KIND OF HUSHSalzburg moves gently at this hour, a soft rustle of coats and shopping bags, the hush of footsteps on stone. No urgency, just the quiet rhythm of people finding their way through the early morning light.
It’s scenes like this that remind me why I reach for my camera, why I move it with intention. This is ICM at its most meditative, slow, deliberate, rooted in presence.
WHEN THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD IS TOO MUCHShe never looked up, not once. The world around her shifted, danced, blurred into softness, but her gaze stayed fixed on the screen. A half-presence. A ghost of the now.
And yet...I sensed something vulnerable in her detachment. As if the phone wasn’t just a distraction, but a shield. A place to hide when the light is too much, when the world feels like too many questions.
She passed by like a whisper. Not quite here, not quite gone. A modern silhouette in an ancient frame.
THE RITUALA calm, warm Salzburg morning. The street’s already waking, but he takes his time, hands behind his back, head slightly tilted. He’s not hungry yet. Not really. He’s just doing what he always does. The menu never really changes, but he reads it like it might. Like something new might appear. A surprise. A reason to sit down alone and stay a little longer.The world rushes behind him, but he stays here, held by habit, and by the comfort of repetition. It’s not about food. It never has been. It’s about the quiet ceremony of choosing something, even when he’s already decided.
THRESHOLDThere are days when we walk.
And then there are days when we’re pulled.Drawn forward without thought, not by purpose, but by presence. Something in the light ahead calls, though it doesn’t say our name.The bikes are still. The aging walls lean in like they’ve seen this before. And he, small against the weight of the moment, is halfway between staying and vanishing. His shape softens at the edges, not from motion, but from memory.He is not lost. Not yet.
Just…on the brink.
Of what, we’ll never know.
Because thresholds don’t explain themselves.
They only open.
THE LOST GUESTSThis alley wasn't on the map. Neither were they, they were guests on last night's ghost tour, took a wrong turn through a streak of light and landed here, in this in-between space. A tunnel that hums quietly and smells faintly of lavender and old secrets.
I just came to shoot the shadows. But now they’re looking at me like they’ve been expecting me. And honestly…the light is kind of perfect.
Careful what you blur. Some places you can’t unsee.
THE GHOST OF WORKSHOPS PASTIt was a foggy evening in Bolzano, the kind where even your breath looks like it's trying to escape. We'd wrapped up a workshop day of swooping cameras and painterly stranger stories when someone suggested a ghost tour. “What could possibly go wrong?” we laughed.
Fast forward 30 minutes: we're halfway through the tour, listening to a very enthusiastic guide explain how a local monk still walks the cloisters at night when - poof - we realise we’re one photographer short. Vanished. Camera and all.
Now, before you panic, of course she didn’t die. Far from it. She was simply enchanted. Turns out she slipped off mid-tour, followed a different ghostly story, and had such a good time she stayed… and started her own ghost tour business! She’s now the top-rated spirit wrangler in northern Italy and appears on TripAdvisor under 'local legends with flair.'
As for me? I stick to online workshops these days. Fewer hauntings, better lighting.
RIDING THROUGH THE LENS OF TIMEThey sped past me in a streak of childhood - seven riders, seven moments. Only three held shape long enough to be remembered. The rest dissolved into the blur, like names we once knew and forgot to keep.Time has a habit of softening the edges, doesn't it?You remember the sun, the laughter, the motion, not the faces. Just a feeling of freedom so pure, it refuses to sit still.
THE HUDDLE
They gathered like a thought still forming - tangled limbs, overlapping chatter, bright shorts and sun-warmed questions. What next? Ice cream or fortress? Museum or beer?
There’s a rhythm to the streets of Salzburg in summer, and sometimes, it stumbles. Fifteen strangers paused mid-step, mid-plan, mid-thought. A temporary sculpture of elbows, backpacks, and indecision.
Their voices blurred into my lens like breath on glass.
In that blur, I saw what I always look for: the ordinary becoming myth.
Then, just as quickly, they noticed me, laughed, scattered, and dissolved back into the street, like mist in the sun.
SHOES OF REGRETMarlene made a huge mistake when she bought shoes online.
They were described as 'ergonomically aerodynamic cloudwalkers.' ☁️👟
The ad promised weightlessness, support, even a spiritual experience.Turns out, 'cloud' referred to the size, not the comfort.
And 'walker' was generous, at best. These were not shoes. These were inflatable rafts stitched together with bad decisions.She tried to return them, once. But the return policy was written in wingdings and possibly Sanskrit. Now, €275 lighter and significantly louder (the shoes wheeze), she clomps up the hill like a horse wearing inflatables.People stare. Small dogs bark. One child burst into applause.
Still, she presses on, ankles vanishing, pride intact.
Because Marlene may suffer.
But she will never admit defeat.
Not in these cloudwalkers. Not today.
ALMOST SILENCEMozartplatz, just after sunrise. The air is still cool, the square impossibly wide and empty, and I’m not sure why I’m here so early — until she arrives. She doesn’t rush. Her basketed bike glides softly over the cobbles. Her dress catches a thread of breeze. She owns the silence without knowing it, and I don’t move. I just watch. For a few seconds, it's just us. Her, me, and the long shadow of a city waking up. She’s gone before I can even think of a title. But I name her in my head anyway.
Almost Silence.
Some images slipped between the cracks and settled in Ink & Echo — but you’ll find their stories here, too.
THE CROSSINGThere’s an intersection in Merano where time doesn’t hold tight.Where four streets meet, but what they’re meeting isn’t always clear.I was standing in shadow, watching the light ahead. And then they came. Ten figures in white, gliding silently from left to right, caught mid-passage Not walking. Not rushing. Just…moving.Their outlines stretched skyward, soft as breath, bright as memory. They weren’t alone. To the right, one figure in black, grounded, small, still waiting. For the signal? For permission? Or perhaps just watching the others go.
People say ICM is just blur, but blur is what happens when reality gets too full to hold its shape.
I didn’t expect the moment and I didn’t plan it, but I know when something more than light walks into frame. And this…was more.
THE BOLZANO BOYS (AFTER DARK)There’s a moment when the city quiets and the boys come alive. Not quite men, no longer boys, they stride into light and legend, carving mischief into the night.
IN THE FRAME OF ANOTHERShe didn’t know I was there. Or maybe she did - one photographer can always sense another. Framed in light like the lead in an old noir film, she lifted her camera with the ease of someone who’s done it a thousand times before. Boots planted, one elbow raised, the second camera slung at her side like a gunslinger’s holster. A poet of the moment, mid-hunt. For once, it wasn’t the subject that was being immortalised, it was the storyteller herself. I blurred the line between artist and muse. She became the story, and for that one single frame, so did I.
BIKE LINE BALLETThey weren’t parked so much as placed - a perfect diagonal stitched across the quiet square like someone arranging thoughts in a line.
Below them, nothing but white heat and cobbles. Above them, café chatter and two tourists trying to agree on directions without using the word 'lost'
This is Salzburg in high season - serene and bustling all at once. The bikes wait with endless patience. They know the rhythm.
LOCALS ONLYKitzbühel, out of season, the cobblestones breathe a little deeper. The air is crisp, the sun low and generous, casting that sharp autumn light that behaves more like water than warmth.
The cafés are empty now, save for two locals lingering over cocktails too early or too late to explain. Their laughter is low, not loud - the kind that comes from decades, not drinks.
The legs of the empty chairs reflect in the sunlight as if it were a shallow pool, and for a moment, the entire scene feels rehearsed.
A soft encore for a summer season that has already taken its bow. Two friends walking slowly through light and memory and the street listens as they gossip softly, like they’ve done for decades. Soon the town will glitter again. But for now, it exhales and belongs, once again, to those who never left.
THE FANTA QUEEN OF BOLZANOSome people walk, others arrive.
She didn’t just pass by us on that cobbled street, she owned it. Head high, afro haloed by sunlight, her bag swinging, arms clutching a bottle of Fanta and snacks like she was about to throw the most exclusive rooftop party Bolzano had ever seen.
Nobody spoke, but everyone looked.
We - photographers, locals, tourists, me with my post-workshop beer halfway to my lips - we all froze. Cameras rose in unison like some reverent ritual. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t smile. Didn't need to.
She’s walked that walk before. She’ll walk it again. And Bolzano will remember.
WORKSHOPS ONLINE AND ALIVE!
COME BREAK THE RULES WITH MEEver heard of a Jiggler?
That’s what I call myself and my students, we are photographers who dare to blur the rules, dance with light, and trust our gut.
If you’re curious, a bit chaotic, and ready to create wild, wonderful things, you’re already one of us.📷 COME BLUR WITH METogether, we’ll walk the same ICM path I took, learning what works, what doesn’t, and why. We’ll explore light, movement, intention… and make a few glorious messes along the way. Yes, there will be ghost stories. Yes, there will be giggles. And yes, a lot of jiggles.I shoot in black and white because my ADHD brain demands it — but you can create in all the colour your heart can handle.This isn’t just a workshop. It’s a movement. It’s a mood.
It’s Alex & The Jigglers!YOU'LL GET:
Six meetings over 12 weeks. Live online.
🎥 Zoom sessions (recorded)
✏️ Assignments & a final project
💌 Ongoing feedback & supportPRICING:
Jiggler Solo Explorer (1:1) – €395
Just you, me, and a lot of blur.Jiggler Micro Band (2–3 people) – €195 per person
A small band of Jigglers, learning the dance together.Full Jiggler Parade (4–6 people) – €135 per person
Your very own Jiggler gang. More chaos, more insight, more giggles.📅 Flexible start dates.
⏰ Time zone friendly, wherever you are.
🌍 Everyone’s welcome here.
🌟
LIMITED-TIME OFFER - WEBSITE LAUNCH SPECIAL -
STARTS EARLY MAY 2025To celebrate my new website, I’m opening TWO special groups for:
→ 4 Jigglers in EU-friendly time zone
→ 4 Jigglers in US/Canada-friendly time zone
Each place is just €100 — an unmissable chance to join the full workshop experience at a wild founder’s rate.Same relaxed, six-session format. Same blur, magic, feedback, and support, just a chance to be part of something beautiful… at a beautiful price.
👉 Want in? Email me now using the button below to save your place.
(Only 8 places total and 2 are gone — once they’re gone, they’re gone.)
🌟
💬 FAQ WORKSHOP EDITION:What gear do I need to start?
👉 Just a camera with manual settings, a 50mm or 75mm lens (in full-frame terms) and 6-stop ND filter, but I’ll help you figure it all out. You do NOT need expensive gear!What if I’ve never done ICM before?
👉 These workshops are built for beginners. We start from zero and walk the same path I did.Will I get feedback on my work?
👉 Absolutely! You'll get supportive, constructive feedback after every assignment, and plenty of encouragement along the way.What if I can’t make a live session?
👉 No worries! Every session is recorded and uploaded for you to watch at your own pace.What if I have ADHD or I learn differently?
👉 You’re in the right place. I have ADHD too, and I teach in a way that’s flexible, understanding, and built to make learning joyful, not stressful.What happens when the workshop ends?
👉 That’s up to you! Some students keep going through my ongoing creative companionship (OCC) offer. This doesn’t have to be goodbye, but whatever you decide, *once a Jiggler, always a Jiggler!
✨ Curious ?
Find out about Ongoing Creative Companionship
WHAT MY STUDENTS SAY"Alex has opened my eyes to the creative possibilities of photography and guided me through the the process of making pictures with my camera worthy of printing, framing and showing in galleries. Since working with Alex, my pictures have TWICE won newspaper awards and I couldn't be happier with my results. Excellent workshops!"
Mary Johnson-Greene“Some course leaders teach, others inspire, Alex does both.”
Barbara Orchard“Alex’s images have always inspired me. Her ICM online workshop has allowed me to create images, I never thought possible. Alex’s ability to see potential in each of us, and encourage and nurture our individual styles has been fantastic. I am very grateful for the experience. Alex deserves to go far with her workshops, she gives so much!”
Caroline Morley“I've spent several months during the last year learning new techniques with Alex. Her easygoing teaching style, clear explanations and enthusiasm for ICM photography mean I'm now delving into a hitherto unknown world of photo creativity and it’s beyond what I could have imagined. I'd recommend Alex's workshops to anyone.”
Tracy Edwards“I have recently completed an ICM workshop with Alex which I have found both a lot of fun and exceptionally informative and it’s a journey I wish wouldn’t end. Alex has guided us step by step through each module, setting challenges and encouraging us to develop our own style. I’m hooked and proud to be a Jiggler!”
Moy Calverley
Ongoing Creative Companionship (OCC)
aka The Bit Where We Keep Dancing**So… the workshop ends.
But your personal blur journey? That’s just getting started.This isn’t traditional mentorship. It’s something softer, stranger, and more personal - an ongoing connection between me (Alex) and you (a proud Jiggler) as you continue to explore light, motion, and storytelling in your own beautiful, imperfect way.YOU'LL GET:- Monthly feedback on your work
- Support when you’re stuck or spiraling
- Creative prompts if you want them
- A cheerleader. A mirror. A friend who gets it.
- This is *creative companionship *- the gentle kind that helps you keep jiggling even when the world feels still.💶 PRICINGI want this to feel light, flexible, and accessible. So there are options:
• €25/month — cancel anytime
• €65 for 3 months
• €120 for 6 monthsSliding scale pricing is available — just ask, I will always try to say yes.
Because jiggling is for everyone 💌
INK & ECHO
WHERE STORIES SETTLEThese are the stories I couldn’t stop seeing. They’re meant for you, for your walls, your letters, your quiet corners. Start here. Take what moves you.
HOW THEY'RE MADEEach card begins as a story, captured in motion, made with care. The image is printed on 290gsm archival photo paper and then mounted by hand onto 350gsm professional-grade photo card, giving it a beautifully weighted, premium feel.Every card is created one by one, by me, and shipped by me - no mass production, no outsourcing, just a human touch from start to finish.A5 in size, to preserve the emotion and detail. Each one comes with a crisp white envelope and is protected in a recycled plastic sleeve.Each card includes a printed copy of its story, hand-signed by me, so the tale travels with the image, from my hands to yours.
💌 HOW TO ORDER
Each card is made to order, just for you.
To place an order, simply email me with:- The title(s) of the image(s) you love.
- Any special requests. Want me to add a very short message on the top border? Just say the word - it’s part of the process, the care, the connection.
- Your location (for shipping info)
I’ll get back to you quickly with availability, total cost including shipping, and payment details
Bundles Available
🎁 Any 3 cards for €15
✉️ Any 5 cards for €24
💌 Any 10 cards for €45
(Mix & match your favourites - just let me know your selections by email after ordering.)
UK customers - A limited batch of cards will soon be available to ship directly from within the UK (no import duties, faster delivery!). Let me know if you'd like to be among the first to get your hands on them.
💳 HOW TO PAY
📍Inside the EU: I accept bank transfers (SEPA) - fast, easy, no extra fees.
🌍 Outside the EU: PayPal is preferred - secure, smooth, and familiar.
I’ll provide you with the right details when you email.
THE ADHD OLYMPICS
A5 CARD WITH ENVELOPE
€6 each
€15 for 3
€24 for 5
MAX AND THE ICE-CREAM DASH
A5 CARD WITH ENVELOPE
€6 each
€15 for 3
€24 for 5
THE SECRET STRUDEL SHORTCUT
A5 CARD WITH ENVELOPE
€6 each
€15 for 3
€24 for 5
THE ACCIDENTAL ICON
A5 CARD WITH ENVELOPE
€6 each
€15 for 3
€24 for 5
WHEN STRANGERS BECOME STORIES
A5 CARD WITH ENVELOPE
€6 each
€15 for 3
€24 for 5
IN THE ALLEY OF ALMOSTS
A5 CARD WITH ENVELOPE
€6 each
€15 for 3
€24 for 5
THERE'S A KIND OF HUSH
A5 CARD WITH ENVELOPE
€6 each
€15 for 3
€24 for 5
WHEN THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH
A5 CARD WITH ENVELOPE
€6 each
€15 for 3
€24 for 5Hidden Faces Series
RIDING THROUGH THE LENS OF TIME
A5 CARD WITH ENVELOPE
€6 each
€15 for 3
€24 for 5
THRESHOLD
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€6 each
€15 for 3
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THE LOST GUESTS
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€6 each
€15 for 3
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THE GHOST OF WORKSHOPS PAST
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€6 each
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SHOES OF REGRET
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€6 each
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THE HUDDLE
A5 CARD WITH ENVELOPE
€6 each
€15 for 3
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ALMOST SILENCE
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€6 each
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THE CROSSING
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€6 each
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THE LONG-NECKED DUDE
A5 CARD WITH ENVELOPE
€6 each
€15 for 3
€24 for 5Hidden Faces Series
BOLZANO BOYS (AFTER DARK)
A5 CARD WITH ENVELOPE
€6 each
€15 for 3
€24 for 5
BIKE LINE BALLET
A5 CARD WITH ENVELOPE
€6 each
€15 for 3
€24 for 5
THE FANTA QUEEN OF BOLZANO
A5 CARD WITH ENVELOPE
€6 each
€15 for 3
€24 for 5
ECHOES OF A SEASON
A5 CARD WITH ENVELOPE
€6 each
€15 for 3
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UNTIL SHE RETURNS
A5 CARD WITH ENVELOPE
€6 each
€15 for 3
€24 for 5Hidden Faces Series
AND IN YOUR EYES I AM COMPLETE
A5 CARD WITH ENVELOPE
€6 each
€15 for 3
€24 for 5Hidden Faces Series
THE TWO FACES
A5 CARD WITH ENVELOPE
€6 each
€15 for 3
€24 for 5Hidden Faces Series
IN THE FRAME OF ANOTHER
A5 CARD WITH ENVELOPE
€6 each
€15 for 3
€24 for 5
A quick note on shipping:
All cards and prints are handmade and shipped with care from Austria. If you're ordering from outside the EU, your country may charge a small customs or import fee upon delivery. These charges (if applicable) are the responsibility of the buyer. I always do my best to keep things smooth and simple — just like the art itself.
MEET THE DIARIST
I’m UK-born, Austria-living, powered by ADHD, strong coffee, and a relentless love for people and stories.
I’m a storyteller, author, Fujifilm UK collaborator, and full-time ICM photographer with a deep affection for blur, chaos, and emotional connection.
I live in the Alps with my Spanish rescue dog Billy, teach from my laptop, and tell stories in streaks, swirls, and movement.
My online workshops are as full of feeling as they are of technique — because photography should reflect how we feel the world, not just what’s in front of us.ADHD shapes my chaotic mind, but it’s here, in movement, that I find stillness.
This diary is my love letter to imperfection.
And my workshops? They’re an invitation to feel deeply, shoot freely, and see differently.I don’t do perfect.
I do real.To follow life behind the scenes, check out:
WHISPERS FROM THE MARGINS ➜