Concert photography is about responding in real time to energy, light, and sound. Each performance is unpredictable—no two moments are the same—and the role of the photographer is to anticipate and recognise those fleeting instances where emotion, movement, and atmosphere come together.

Working within constantly shifting stage lighting and limited control over the environment, the process relies heavily on instinct and timing. Rather than directing, the approach is observational—watching for gestures, expressions, and interactions between performers that reveal the essence of the performance.

Beyond documenting the event, the aim is to capture the experience: the intensity of the music, the connection between artist and audience, and the atmosphere that exists only in that moment. The result is not just a record of a concert, but a visual translation of sound and energy into a single frame.

A campaign for the National Reading Movement reimagines reading as a response to everyday life’s questions and challenges. Each visual pairs relatable, often unspoken thoughts with bold, vibrant portraits—drawing viewers in through humour, curiosity, and recognition.

The use of saturated, contrasting colours and stylised lighting creates a contemporary, almost theatrical tone, allowing each subject to embody a moment of reflection. Rather than presenting reading as an obligation, the campaign positions it as a personal, accessible solution—an answer waiting to be discovered.

The photographic approach balances expression and simplicity, capturing individuals mid-thought, inviting viewers to see themselves in these scenarios and consider reading as a natural next step.

Photographing Mr. Lee Kuan Yew for GIC’s inaugural annual report was a quiet and deeply focused process. The session was efficient and deliberate, with an emphasis on simplicity—clean lighting, minimal distraction, and allowing his presence to carry the image.

What stood out was the weight of the moment. There was no need for direction beyond the essentials; his composure, gaze, and stillness naturally conveyed authority and history. The role of the photographer, in that instance, was not to create—but to recognise and capture what was already there.