How to Photograph the National Fireworks Championship: Ultimate Guide & Camera Settings

The salt air of Plymouth Sound carries a palpable hum of anticipation. Thousands line Plymouth Hoe and drape over the cliff edges, waiting for that first jagged flash to tear across the August night sky. When the National Fireworks Championship arrives, it transforms the UK coastline into a dramatic amphitheatre of thunder and light.

For photographers, framing a pyrotechnic spectacle against iconic landmarks like Smeaton’s Tower is a dream project. However, capturing a crisp, colourful masterpiece rather than a blown out smear of white light requires deliberate preparation.

Use this step by step fireworks photography guide to master camera settings, essential gear, and pro timing techniques for the big night.

Essential Gear for Fireworks Photography

Before heading down to Plymouth Hoe, Mount Edgcumbe, or Jennycliff, pack these critical tools to keep your shots sharp in challenging low light conditions:

• Sturdy Camera Tripod: Slow shutter speeds mean handholding is out of the question. A heavy duty tripod anchors your camera against stiff coastal winds.

• Remote Shutter Release: Triggering your camera via a cable release, wireless remote, or mobile app eliminates the micro-shake caused by pressing the shutter button manually.

• Wide Angle Lens: A 16–35mm lens allows you to frame the high-altitude explosive blooms alongside ambient foreground elements like Smeaton's Tower or Plymouth Harbor.

Best Camera Settings for Fireworks

How to guide for Photographing fireworks

Auto modes struggle in extreme contrast and darkness. To get full control over your exposure, dial in these manual settings before the show starts:

Setting

Recommended Value

Why It Works

Shooting Mode

Manual (M) or Bulb

Manual gives total exposure control; Bulb lets you hold the shutter open for the duration of a burst.

ISO

100 or 200

Low ISO values minimize image noise, preserve dynamic range, and keep colour trails vibrant.

Aperture

f/8 to f/11

A mid range aperture keeps foreground landmarks and fireworks sharply in focus without soft diffraction.

Shutter Speed

2 to 6 Seconds

Captures the entire trajectory, from the initial rocket launch to the trailing fade, without overexposing.

Focus Mode

Manual (MF)

Switch off autofocus. Lock manual focus to infinity () using a distant light source before dark.

Pro Tip: Turn off Image Stabilization (IS/VR) when your camera is mounted on a tripod. The system can accidentally introduce internal vibration when searching for movement that isn't there.

Pro Timing & Composition Techniques

Once the darkness breaks and the first mortars launch into the night, rely on these field techniques to capture pro-level shots:

1. Scout Your Vantage Point Early: Arrive at Plymouth Hoe hours before dusk. Position yourself to capture high altitude bursts while framing silhouettes, water reflections, or historic monuments in the lower third of your frame.

2. Time the Rocket Trails: Don't wait for the explosion to click the shutter. Listen for the launcher thump, watch for the streak of light climbing into the sky, and press your remote shutter just before the shell reaches its apex.

3. Try the "Black Card" Technique: Set your camera to Bulb mode. Hold a piece of black matte cardboard over the front of your lens between bursts while keeping the shutter open. This stacks multiple firework displays onto a single image frame without overexposing the night sky.

4. Manage Smoke Accumulation: The best photos happen during the first 10 to 15 minutes of the display. As the show progresses, heavy smoke builds up over Plymouth Sound and catches excess ambient light. Shoot your primary hero shots early in the schedule.

Frequently Asked Questions

Should I shoot fireworks in RAW or JPEG?

Always shoot in RAW format. Fireworks feature extreme highlights and deep shadows; RAW files preserve the dynamic range necessary to highlight rich colour trails and lift dark foreground details during post-processing.

How do I avoid overexposed fireworks?

If the centres of your firework bursts appear plain white with no colour, your aperture is too wide or your shutter speed is too long. Stop down your aperture from f/8 to f/11 or shorten your exposure time.

Fireworks explode behind Smeatons Tower Lighthouse

Chasing the Perfect Dartmoor Sunset: A Summer Walk up Brat Tor

The last time I stood atop Brat Tor, winter was maintaining a positively medieval grip on the Dartmoor landscape. The ground was lightly dusted in snow, and every exhaled breath produced a cloud of vapour so dense it could have comfortably passed for an industrial effluent.

With Jack Frost dutifully providing the ambience, I had the entire glorious expanse to myself. The Devon landscape was breathtaking, the sort of majestic, sweeping vista that leaves one genuinely awestruck, or would have, had I not been reasonably convinced that opening my mouth for too long might permanently freeze my jaw shut.

Why Winter Photography on Dartmoor Is a Hard Sell

Yet, for all the stark grandeur of those winter landscape photographs, it turned out the good, sensible folk of Tavistock had remarkably little appetite for hanging them on their living room walls.

Apparently, when people buy Dartmoor wall art, nobody wants a print whose primary artistic function is to remind them to put on extra thermal underwear. Lesson learned: summer photography sells better than hypothermia.     

The Mad Dash for a Summer Sunset

Enter the marvels of modern technology. A modest, cheerful ping from my smartphone weather app alerted me to the distinct possibility of an incandescent Devon sunset. What followed was a brief period of dignified panic, during which I careened through the house like a distracted squirrel, scooping up an absurd volume of camera equipment.

Unlike my usual aimless wanderings, I actually had a destination in mind. All that remained was the small, excruciating matter of ascending Brat Tor once more.

As I trudged up the hill near Lydford, my so called "smart" watch began issuing increasingly hysterical health alerts to anyone within earshot, practically declaring it a medical miracle that a man with a heart rate this alarming was still standing upright.

Summiting Brat Tor (and Terrifying the Locals)

Naturally, on a fine summer evening, one expects to share the Dartmoor National Park with fellow walkers enjoying the trail. What these unsuspecting souls clearly had not anticipated, however, was the sudden arrival of a lobster red, intensely wheezing photographer of advancing years, lugging what felt like his own body weight in tripod legs and camera lenses up the steepest possible incline.

I paused, bent double with hands firmly planted on my knees, and managed to croak out a breathless "hello."

This brief interaction was evidently so deeply unsettling that the onlookers concluded the sunset simply wasn't worth the existential hazard, and they beat a hasty retreat toward Widgery Cross and down the hill.

Capturing the Golden Hour

Thus, with the summit mercifully restored to total solitude, I set up my gear, caught my breath, and finally captured a golden hour scene that speaks less of icy winds and rather more of glorious Devon summer vibes.

To Drone or Not to Drone? Photographing Postbridge in Dartmoor

To drone or not to drone, that is the question.

As virtually anyone who has suffered the misfortune of encountering me in the flesh will freely attest, I am a man who thoroughly enjoys droning on. It is a source of mild personal irony, then, that I do not actually own a drone.

Now, I must confess that the ten year old boy who permanently resides somewhere behind my ribs would like nothing better than to send a motorized gadget swooping through the upper atmosphere, snapping aerial photographs of the Devon countryside with frantic glee. Indeed, this inner child is entirely prepared to throw a world class tantrum to get one.

Unfortunately, standing firmly in the doorway between me and aerial glory is the thoroughly unromantic figure of my bank account. No amount of pouting seems to move the unyielding hearts at Lloyds Bank, so a photography drone remains indefinitely exiled to my Christmas list.

The Challenge of Photographing Postbridge

By now, you are almost certainly wondering whether this particular ramble is headed anywhere at all. To be entirely honest, when I start waffling, even I am rarely privy to the final destination.

But there is a point, and it concerns Postbridge on Dartmoor.

Postbridge Clapper Bridge has spent years languishing on my landscape photography bucket list, yet I had never quite managed to capture the scene I held in my mind’s eye. For me, the magic lies in framing both the historic 14th century clapper bridge and the neighbouring 18th century road bridge together in a single shot.

The lay of the land, however, presents a devilish little topographical challenge, a hurdle that could easily be solved by gaining just a few extra feet of altitude. The very altitude, of course, that has been denied to me by a foolish obligation to pay for trivial luxuries like food and shelter rather than vital camera gear.

A Creative Alternative to Drone Photography

With my bank balance steadfastly refusing to perform a miracle, I was forced to resort to good old fashioned British ingenuity.

The solution was standing right in front of me: my trusty tripod.

I firmly attached my camera to the tripod head, gripped it securely by the base, and hoisted the entire precarious contraption high above my head like a medieval standard bearer. And lo: there was the angle. Both bridges were framed beautifully at last.

Matt from MJC-photography taking a picture using the tripod to provide extra height.

Naturally, I felt compelled to make loud, throat rattling airplane noises while operating the shutter. It added a certain je ne sais quoi to the artistic process, with the delightful added bonus of causing nearby tourists to give me a very wide, very cautious berth.

So, there you have it. A long sought Dartmoor landscape photograph secured, my inner child appeased, and not a single propellor required, all thanks to the low tech magic of a six foot pole.

A Chaotic, Glorious Month of Stage & Dance Photography

Ah, July. That most treacherous of months when the British calendar conspires to drag innocent, peace loving individuals away from the god given right to a hot dinner and thrust them into the dimly lit, mildly frantic universe of amateur theatre photography.

In the grand and inexplicably chaotic cosmic tapestry of MJC Photography, July is universally recognized as Show Month, a time when sleep becomes an abstract theoretical concept and one’s camera gear begins to feel less like professional equipment and more like a set of heavy iron weights designed to test a human’s mental fortitude.

Act I: The Emotional Rollercoaster of West Side Story

We kicked off this month of stage photography with West Side Story, a production that was, quite frankly, an absolute emotional rollercoaster.

One minute you're marvelling at the choreography through the viewfinder; the next, you're deeply concerned for the vocal cords of a teenager who is giving it their absolute all while wearing a remarkably convincing 1950s leather jacket.

Act II: The Great Culinary Betrayal & Emergency Theatre Shoot

The following week offered up an abundance of drama, though I regret to inform you that the most harrowing scene did not actually take place on stage.

There I was, floating merrily down the highway in the soothing, bumper to bumper bliss of British rush hour traffic. My mind had comfortably uncoupled itself from reality and was happily floating toward a future that involved a magnificent, freshly cooked dinner. Life was good.

Then, the phone rang. It was Laura of LS Drama workshops.

"How far away are you?" she asked.

Now, those five words delivered in a tone that suggests someone has either left the oven on or accidentally declared war on a small European nation, are guaranteed to make an event photographer's stomach drop directly into their socks. All thoughts of a delicious meal instantly vanished, replaced by the icy grip of sudden panic.

You see, in my innocent mind, I wasn't scheduled to photograph the show until Friday night. What I had critically failed to appreciate was that the universe (via the theatre management) had concocted a completely different cast for Thursday night, and Laura wanted both captured for posterity.

The Sprint of a Lifetime

I am reasonably certain it violates several international treaties to make a person sprint through their own home, madly hoovering up camera lenses and tripods, while the glorious, taunting aroma of an unattended home-cooked meal wafts through the hallway.

Consequently, the Thursday night cast were greeted by a theatre photographer who was:

1. Unusually sweaty,

2. Decidedly hangry, and

3. Secretly calculating if it was socially acceptable to eat a granola bar during a dramatic monologue.

Miraculously, my visible distress did not derail the proceedings. The cast was utterly faultless, and the entire production was a visually stunning triumph, ably abetted by the splendidly dramatic lighting provided by the good folks at MB Productions.

Act III: Freezing Time with Dance Photography

Having survived the pint sized thespians, I was promptly hurled into the breathtakingly athletic world of dance photography courtesy of the Linda Mortimore and Charlotte Smith School of Dance.

People often ask me whether I prefer theatre photography or dance photography. To which I say: How does one choose between a lovely cup of tea and a brisk walk through a hurricane? They are entirely different beasts.

Photographing live dance is fundamentally an exercise in defying the laws of physics. It’s about freezing a fleeting micro second of kinetic energy, capturing a high leap at the exact moment gravity seems to take a short tea break.

Defying Camera Settings & Stage Lighting

Now, while MB Productions once again provided stage lighting that was rich, dramatic, and intensely atmospheric, it was also the sort of low light environment that makes a camera sensor weep quietly in the dark. In order to catch every flying kick and high speed spin without turning the performers into blurry streaks of colour, I had to dial my camera settings up to ISO levels that would make the chief technicians at NASA tilt their heads in quiet awe.

The Final Bow

When the dust settled and the digital noise cleared, I was genuinely thrilled with the results. It is a rare privilege to document so many remarkably agile, dexterous, and endlessly energetic teenagers doing what they love (even if it does occasionally interrupt my tea time).

So, that was July: sweat, missed meals, and sheer theatrical triumph.

Now then... what on earth is August planning to throw at me?

Looking for Stage or Event Photography?

Whether you need high-speed dance performance photography or full theatre showcoverage, MJC Photography is ready for the action (and hopefully, a full meal beforehand). Get in touch today to book your show

A Heatwave, a Heartbreak, and Plymouth’s Finest: Why West Side Story at the Quad Theatre Blew Me Away

Well, folks, it is that time of year again. The moment where I dutifully pack away my mud caked hiking boots and all the other outdoorsy paraphernalia usually reserved for my occasional, breathless jollies across the moors.

Why, you ask? Because July has arrived, which means I am now custom bound to spend my evenings perched in the front row of the Quad Theatre at Marjon University, eagerly anticipating an absolute extravaganza of singing and dancing.

The Great Plymouth Heatwave Tradition

For those unfamiliar with my annual theatrical excursions, a brief word of warning: by some bizarre trick of meteorology, every single show I attend is miraculously matched with a rather spectacular British heatwave. The immediate result of this is yours truly sitting in the audience, gently radiating heat and strongly resembling an over ripe tomato.

Honestly, if the local tourist board ever needs to drum up some PR for our spectacular corner of Devon, the solution is simple: just invite the world to Plymouth whenever Laura of LS Drama Workshops put on a show. Glorious weather is practically guaranteed.

West Side Story: West End Quality in Plymouth

Opening this year’s theatre season was West Side Story, and let me tell you straight out of the gate: this production was entirely worthy of the West End.

A Quick Tip for Theatre Lovers: If you haven’t booked a show at Marjon University yet, you are missing out on one of the best cultural gems in the South West.

The staging and lighting, masterfully handled by MB Productions, was worth the price of admission alone. We are talking grand, meticulous shop fronts that effortlessly opened up to reveal hidden interior rooms, not to mention an actual, fully functioning first floor balcony! It was a triumph of local set design.

West Side Story professional show photography by MJC-photography

An Emotional Rollercoaster (Junior Edition or Not)

Now, it’s worth noting that the show was billed as the Junior Edition, but you shouldn't let a title like that fool you into thinking you’re getting off lightly. What followed was a bruising, exhilarating emotional rollercoaster.

West Side Story professional show photography by MJC-photography

These incredibly talented young thespians carried the audience squarely on their shoulders, wringing out every possible emotion along the way:

• Sparkling hope and youthful romance

• High-stakes drama and tense choreography

• A closing scene so devastatingly powerful it had most of the audience sobbing directly into their programmes.

It is a rare thing to see a youth production command that kind of raw power, but this cast absolutely nailed it.

Mark Your Diaries for Next Year

Consider this my official public service announcement: mark your calendars, plot the dates in your diaries for next summer, and get your tickets early.

Yes, if history is any indication, you will almost certainly be incredibly hot. But I promise you, you will be utterly thrilled that you saw the show.

West Side Story professional show photography by MJC-photography

A Splendidly Still Evening in Looe: Landscapes, Litigious Gulls, and Geopolitical Blunders

After several weeks of pointing my camera lens at a succession of startled human beings and deeply suspicious pets, I felt a familiar, urgent ache. It is a peculiar craving known chiefly to those who indulge in landscape photography: the deep-seated, borderline pathological need to stand utterly motionless for hours on end, staring at a view where, in all honesty, absolutely nothing is happening.

It is a state of existential suspension that fans of Plymouth Argyle Football Club will recognize instantly.

Escaping the Elements in Southeast Cornwall

Having confessed this photographic itch to Sarah the night before, we hatched a plan. We required a destination we could both enjoy, crucially, one that did not involve a lung busting trek up a vertical cliffside, culminating in a windswept hypothermia endurance test.

We settled on the thoroughly delightful coastal town of Looe, Cornwall.

Looe is, under normal circumstances, famously picturesque. Lately, however, it has achieved a fresh layer of notoriety as one of the primary Beyond Paradise filming locations. For reasons that defy rational human intellect, the television show’s producers saw fit to declare that this quintessentially Cornish town is actually located in Devon. This is a geographical insult so profound to the local populace that it’s a minor miracle the show’s weekly murder count isn’t significantly higher.

The Fish and Chip Audit

Fortunately, the human locals we encountered were entirely peaceful. The wildlife, however, was another matter.

As we sat down to enjoy that mandatory coastal staple, fish and chips, we found ourselves heavily policed by a squad of local herring gulls. These were not mere birds; they were avian bailiffs. They loitered nearby with an air of intense grievance, clearly harbouring complex legal questions regarding the rightful ownership of our dinner.

Note to travellers: When eating outdoors in Looe, constant vigilance is not a recommendation, it is a survival strategy.

Down the River or Across? The Photographer’s Dilemma

With the last of the chips successfully defended and devoured, and the immediate threat to my life downgraded, it was time to dust off the tripod and get down to business.

Nature, sensing my patience, kindly obliged. Just as the sun dipped below the horizon, a truly spectacular cloud formation rolled in, painting the Cornish sky in brilliant, dramatic hues. It was the exact shot I had been hoping for.

Now, however, I am left with the traditional, agonizing dilemma of the amateur photographer. I have two distinct perspectives from the evening, and I cannot quite decide which is the stronger composition:

• Option 1: Looking directly down the atmospheric Looe River.

• Option 2: Looking straight across the water to capture the stacked houses of the town.

East Looe River taken at Sunset

Looe Cornwall taken at Sunset

The Great British Heatwave (and Other Dog Show Catastrophes) at Plympton Castle Green

The day began with that most dependable of British institutions: a ceiling of heavy, featureless grey cloud that promised the sort of aggressively monotonous weather we have all quietly resigned ourselves to of late. With a shrug, I bundled myself into what I fondly imagined was sensible clothing, hoisted my camera bag, and set off for the Midsummer Solstice Lamb Feast in Plympton. Our specific, noble mission for the afternoon? To document the companion dog show, an event masterminded by the formidable talent that is Lauren from Plympton’s own The Dog House 47.

For the uninitiated, the Plympton Lamb Feast is a cornerstone of the Plympton St Maurice Midsummer Festival. It is an entirely free, delightfully wholesome, family-friendly community gathering staged upon the historic Castle Green, a spot where, in 1224, the Sheriff of Devon thoroughly demolished the original castle because the local lord was being historically difficult. Walking up to it today, it is the sort of quintessentially English village scene that looks so impossibly idyllic you half expect a detective from Midsomer Murders to step out from behind a burger van to investigate a suspicious death by a poisoned scone.

As we arrived, a steadily swelling throng of eager canine participants was already lining up, each doing its level best to put its best paw forward. And then, right on cue, the atmosphere shifted. The clouds abruptly parted, and summer; proper, genuine summer, made a sudden, unannounced appearance.

Now, the British are notoriously bad at handling sudden weather. Give us a drizzling November afternoon and we are masters of our domain. Give us twenty minutes of actual, direct sunlight, and society begins to unravel. This unexpected meteorological plot twist was, of course, wonderful for morale, but it left our photography team looking rather less than picture perfect. Stripped of the breeze, we found ourselves instantly reduced to a pair of red faced, sweating individuals who looked as though they had mistakenly taken a sauna while fully clothed.

Soggy photographers aside, the entire affair went swimmingly. A spectacular plethora of rosettes was enthusiastically distributed to some of the most dashingly handsome and undeniably pretty pets in the whole of Plympton. Quite how the judges manage to pick a single winner from such a dazzlingly talented pool of fluff and good manners is utterly beyond me. Personally, I’d have given a prize to them all, if only to get back into the shade.

Plympton pet show photographed by a professional photographer

The Currency of Joy: A Plymouth Pet Portrait Adventure

It is an established medical fact, or at least, a deeply held personal conviction, that I suffer from a localized neurological affliction known as an itchy shutter finger. (Please, do not Google that. The internet has a way of turning a whimsical phrase into a terrifying rare tropical disease.)

It is a condition that inflicts a profound restlessness upon the soul if a week passes without a camera lens being pointed at something.

Lately, this affliction has been fed a veritable buffet. My lens has been aimed at an eccentric spectrum of the universe: from tiny, dramatic thespians to towering basketball giants, and from graceful ballerinas to the glorious, unbridled chaos of working spaniels. I have loved every single frame.

In fact, the sheer velocity of the shutter action has resulted in a significant backlog. The blame for this digital traffic jam lies entirely with my own compulsion to waffle. I feel an unnatural urge to write a small essay about every encounter, a defect that costs me more hours than I care to admit to my accountant.

This slow, artisanal approach stands in direct defiance of the modern internet. My social media feeds are permanently clogged with terrifyingly energetic young things shouting from beaches, urging me to "post daily!" while weaponizing complex "algorithmic strategies" to maximize my "organic reach."

The Art of the Deal (With a Dog)

Reach or no reach, I am utterly delighted to share a recent adventure from my Plymouth photography studio featuring what might mathematically be the most joyous canine in Devon.

Meet Daisy.

A happy portrait of a dog taken in a professional Plymouth Studio

Daisy arrived for her pet portrait session and immediately undertook the obligatory grand inspection. In the world of studio dog photography, this involves a thorough, high velocity nose vacuuming of the floorboards to sniff out the historical news of every creature that had preceded her.

Once the administrative sniffing was concluded, we got down to business.

For Daisy, "business" exists in a very specific economic framework. Posing for a professional dog photographer is not done for the love of the arts; it comes at a strict, transactional cost. The currency of the realm was the Treat.

Daisy would quite literally perform a complex, rhythmic tap-dance on the spot at the mere prospect of a meaty titbit. It turns out that maintaining an endless supply of high-value liver cake is catastrophic for one's waistline, but it is an absolute miracle worker for creating a happy, expressive photoshoot. (Sounds all too familia!)

The results were spectacular. I captured the perfect portraits, the studio survived the whirlwind, and Daisy left entirely satisfied with her earnings.

Shooting Cast Headshots: A Tale of Tiny Thespians, Reluctant Flashguns, and Creative Survival

I have been thoroughly, unapologetically spoiled of late. Thanks to my recent residency at Trident Studio in Plymouth, I have grown accustomed to an embarrassment of riches in the lighting department. There is enough high end equipment packed within those walls to give the Blackpool Illuminations a serious run for their money. It is a photographer's paradise.

So, when the wonderful Laura casually asked if I could step out of my illuminated sanctuary to shoot location headshots for the cast of her upcoming theatre productions, I should have known better.

The Art of the Creative Hustle (and Falling for It Every Time)

Laura possesses a spectacular, almost supernatural ability to describe what can only be called a whirlwind of tiny, energetic thespians as "a total breeze." She is, without question, a phenomenal acting coach. I know this because her performance works on me every single time.

Armed with nothing but my own modest personal flashguns, I arrived on set.

To achieve that crisp, pure white background beloved by casting directors, I had recently invested in the largest softbox humanly imaginable. Behind our pint sized performers, it looked magnificent. However, filling a structure the size of a minor planet with light meant my poor little strobes had to work harder than they ever had in their lives.

Professional Actor Headshot taken against a white background using Studio lighting.

When Gear Rebels: Finding Creativity in the Misfires

Over 600 images later, my flashguns were quite literally feeling the heat. When you demand that level of heavy workload from portable gear, mutiny is inevitable. Every so often, there would be a distinct misfire, or, more accurately, a flat out refusal by the equipment to continue working under such a tyrannical boss.

Now, a sensible person might have panicked. But if my time in photography has taught me anything, it's that you must never miss an opportunity to call a happy accident "creative genius."

Professional Actor Headshot taken against a black background using Studio lighting.

Using the unexpected drop in light, I leaned into the shadows to create a dramatic, artistic black and white headshot.

Over to You: High Key White or Classic Monochrome?

Monochrome isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, of course. It’s a bit old school, a bit moody, but against all odds, I rather liked the results.

What say you? Do you prefer the crisp, modern look of a classic theatre headshot, or does the accidental drama of the black and white version steal the show?

Are you looking for professional headshots in Plymouth or Devon? Whether you need corporate portraits or cast headshots for drama schools, let’s chat about how we can create something memorable (and hopefully keep my flashguns from melting).

The Fine Art of Herding Furry Tornadoes: A Masterclass in Studio Chaos

According to the dictionary, chaos is defined as a state of total confusion, utter disorder, or a complete lack of organization. It is a word used by scientists to describe the universe, and by parents to describe a toddler's bedroom.

However, I am convinced the lexicographers at Oxford had a different muse entirely when they penned that definition: a photoshoot at Trident Studio, Plymouth featuring two specific English Springer Spaniels named Inka and Lottie.

To say these two have energy is to say the sun is a bit warm. They possessed the kind of vibrating, molecular restlessness usually reserved for a five year old child who has been systematically stuffed full of fizzy pop and Smarties. It was a whirlwind of a dog photography session and frankly, I loved every chaotic second of it.

The Grand Inquisitors of the Studio Floor

The moment both Springers crossed the threshold, they did not politely look for the camera. Instead, they immediately undertook a highly urgent, deeply spiritual mission to sniff every single square inch of available floor space.

The Scene: Heads down, bums triumphantly up, and tails wagging with such furious velocity they threatened to alter the local weather patterns.

It was a furry tornado whipping into every corner of the room. Once the perimeter was thoroughly inspected and deemed safe from imaginary intruders, it was time to get down to business. Or at least, our version of it.

Tag Team Wrestling (With Added Fur)

Coaxing Inka and Lottie into position was less like traditional pet photography and something more akin to refereeing a high stakes tag team wrestling match. They took turns on the studio floor, trading places with the chaotic energy of Olympic sprinters.

Thankfully, the match was masterfully refereed by their owners, who utilized a combination of patience, treats, and what I assume was mild sorcery.

In the end, it was the fleeting, beautiful little moments of calm that we captured. Amidst the whirlwind, the camera caught those soulful, bright eyes and magnificent ears in perfect stillness. And let me be completely honest, I was absolutely delighted with the results.

Looking for Pet Photography in Plymouth?

If you have a furry whirlwind of your own and want to capture their unique personality (chaos and all!), get in touch with MJC-Photography. We specialize in turning high energy into timeless portraits.

Shooting Hoops (and Photos) at Plymouth’s Historic Custom House

Shooting Hoops (and Photos) at Plymouth’s Historic Custom House

We really are extraordinarily blessed down here in sunny Plymouth. The city practically begs to be photographed, offering up an embarrassment of riches when it comes to stunning backdrops. So, when Basketball England booked me as their commercial photographer to document their annual awards, I was absolutely delighted.

The venue for the evening was none other than The Custom House on the Barbican. For those who haven’t had the pleasure of standing in its shadow, The Custom House is an imposing, Grade II listed, granite fronted masterpiece. It was erected in the early 19th century as a unapologetic statement of Plymouth’s burgeoning wealth as the region’s premier merchant port. It is a spectacular building, though on this particular evening, its most crucial architectural feature was simpler: it was quite possibly the only venue in Devon with a ceiling high enough to comfortably accommodate a room full of basketball players.

Capturing the Big Moments (and the Tall Guests)

The night itself was a glorious celebration of everything that makes sport wonderful. Our host, Nick, had travelled the entire length of the country to personally oversee the festivities and ensure that the local heroes who do so much for their community received their well deserved dues.

Setting up for event photography of this scale requires a bit of tactical planning. I staked out my territory in a corner of the long room, unfurled the backdrop, and made sure to deploy my absolute tallest light stand. When your subjects routinely tower over the average door frame, standard equipment simply won’t do.

The Goal: Blend the candid energy of a live sports awards ceremony with the polished, high end look of a professional studio photoshoot.

From the formal trophy presentations to those fleeting, candid little moments of laughter and pride between teammates, it was a joy to capture. All in all, it was a night the Plymouth basketball community can be thoroughly proud of and I was just delighted to play my part in making it look picture perfect.

Braving the Elements: A Rugged Dartmoor Fitness Photoshoot (And One Very Tired Photographer)

Imagine my delight when a gentleman named Gavin reached out to book a commercial photoshoot for his upcoming outdoor fitness business. He had spotted my work in Tavistock’s historic Pannier Market and decided that my lens was the perfect fit for his venture. Given that his business revolves around rugged, outdoor training on the dramatic landscapes of Dartmoor, it felt like a match made in heaven. Or, at the very least, a match made in Devon.

In my mind’s eye, I immediately conjured a glorious tableau: a group of effortlessly enthusiastic fitness types, the sort of chiselled, impossibly beautiful people who seem to populate social media with annoying frequency, bounding joyfully across the heather. We tossed ideas back and forth and settled on a date to meet at Tavy Cleave.

If you have never visited Tavy Cleave, I can highly recommend it. It offers the absolute finest of Dartmoor concentrated into one spectacular spot:

• Rugged granite tors

• Sweeping, cinematic vistas

• Lung busting hills

• A dramatic valley complete with a rushing river and a waterfall

It is, in short, a Devon paradise.

When Dartmoor Ignores the Met Office

"Rugged" was the specific look we were aiming for. Somehow, the temperamental weather gods of the West Country decided that rugged actually meant downright brutal.

Lulled into a entirely false sense of optimism by a cheerful Met Office forecast, we agreed to meet early to capture as many images as possible before any storm clouds gathered. Delightful in theory. However, if there is one thing I have learned as a Dartmoor photographer, it is that Dartmoor does not read, nor does it respect, weather forecasts.

As we climbed our first Tor, the sky shifted from a mild, brooding grey to a state of absolute, dark anger. Yet, we persevered. With the first set of fitness portraits safely on the camera sensor despite the lowering cloud, we descended into the valley toward the waterfall and wild swimming area.

Note to readers: Dartmoor water in the cooler months is not what one would call "inviting." It is closer to liquid ice.

Gavin, however, is clearly constructed from sterner stuff than ordinary mortals. Before I could even mutter the word hypothermia, he had stripped down to his swimming trunks and dived headlong into the icy depths. I watched on, convinced I was working with Superman.

Fitness vs. Photography: The Great Contrast

After a brisk jog back to his van, it was time for Gavin to endure several more forms of torture in the name of physical fitness. Fortunately for everyone concerned, this next segment did not involve me exerting myself any further than lifting my camera and adjusting my shutter speed.

Photoshoot complete, our local fitness hero packed away an alarming number of heavy weights and assorted equipment without looking like he had broken so much as a single sweat. Meanwhile, a red faced, slightly rotund photographer trudged back to his own car, feeling very much like a broken man.

It was a brilliant day of Devon commercial photography, capturing the raw, authentic grit of outdoor training. When Gavin officially launches his new Dartmoor fitness venture, I highly recommend checking it out, though you might find me at the back of the class, catching my breath.

Planning a Brand Launch in Devon?

Whether you need rugged fitness photography on the moors or professional commercial imagery in Tavistock or Plymouth, I’d love to help bring your business vision to life (and I promise to bring plenty of enthusiasm, even if the weather brings the drama).

[Get in touch with MJC-photography today to discuss your project.]

The Physics of the Flash (Or, Why Your Phone Isn't Enough)

Most people think light is just... there. It’s what keeps you from walking into the furniture. But for a professional dance photographer, light is more like a sculptor’s chisel.

If you use the kind of flat, bright light you find in a supermarket or a particularly aggressive dentist’s office, the dancer disappears. They become two-dimensional, like a cardboard cutout. To capture the true art of movement, you need shadows. Shadows are what tell the viewer’s brain that the dancer has muscles, depth, and hasn't just been flattened by a falling piano.

Key Factors in Dance Portrait Lighting:

1. Directional Drama: Notice the way light falls across a face in a professional portrait. We call this "sculpting with light." By angling the light—much like the way a sunset makes even a compost heap look majestic—we highlight the grace and strength of the dancer.

2. The "Freeze" Factor: Dancers move fast. Faster than a rumor in a small village. To capture a ballet mid-air jump without it looking like a smudge of beige, you need high-speed lighting. This isn't just a flash; it’s a tiny, controlled explosion of precision.

3. Atmospheric Sepia and Mood: Sometimes, the best light isn't the brightest. A sepia-toned dance photograph evokes a sense of history and timelessness. It says, "This moment didn't just happen; it mattered."

Why MJC-Photography?

Whether it’s theatrical stage lighting or a controlled studio dance session, the goal is to make the soul of the performance visible. You can have the most talented dancer in the world, but if the lighting is wrong, you're just taking a picture of someone who looks like they’re having a very energetic argument with gravity.

In the world of creative dance photography, we don't just "take" pictures. We wait for the light to agree with the movement. It’s a bit like magic, only with more tripods and fewer frogs.

If you’re looking for high-quality dance portfolios or performance photography in Plymouth, remember: the light matters. Without it, you’re just standing in the dark. And while that’s great for hiding from creditors, it’s terrible for your Instagram.

Book your session today at MJC-Photography.com where we make sure the light always catches your best side.

The Art of the Pirouette (and Other Things I Don’t Understand)

Yesterday, a rather peculiar thing happened in Plymouth: the sun came out. In this corner of the world, such a meteorological anomaly usually triggers a mass migration of the local populace toward the nearest beer garden, where they sit in a state of pink shouldered delirium, clutching pints of cider and wondering what that big yellow ball in the sky is.

I, however, had managed to convince the immensely patient Tania and her remarkably talented daughter, Lucy, to forego the siren call of a liquid lunch. Instead, we spent the afternoon tucked away in my studio, a place that remained stubbornly, almost heroically, immune to the outside warmth.

Now, Lucy is a regular star of the LS DRAMA Workshops and a veteran of the theatrical stage. I’ve had the pleasure of capturing her actor’s headshots before (which, I suspect, are currently making her Spotlight profile look far more professional than anything I ever did at that age). But this particular session was a different beast entirely: we were here to capture the fluid, gravity defying world of dance.

I should confess right now that this shoot was a triumph of collaboration, mostly because I am a man of a certain vintage in possession of two left feet and a complete lack of any rhythmic sensibility. My personal vocabulary of ballet is, to put it mildly, non-existent.

The afternoon largely consisted of me issuing a series of painfully inept, wildly metaphorical instructions, which Lucy then had to translate into something graceful. She handled my bumbling directions with the kind of weary, noble tolerance usually reserved for a Spanish waiter trying to explain a menu to a British tourist who refuses to speak anything but very loud, slow English.

Despite my linguistic failings, the results were, if I may say so, rather splendid. Through a combination of clever lighting, some frantic camera adjustments, and Lucy’s sheer athletic prowess, we managed to capture a gallery of images that I am immensely proud of. It turns out that when you pair a talented dancer with a photographer who is mostly just relieved no one tripped over a power cable, magic happens.

I’m already looking forward to the next time a group of talented performers graces my studio. Though, next time, I might try to learn what a plié is beforehand.

Ready to capture your own moment of grace (or just a really good headshot)?

Whether you’re a dancer, a budding thespian, or just someone who needs a photo that doesn't look like a CCTV still, I’d love to help. Head over to my Studio Portraits page to schedule your session, or drop me a line at mjcplymouth@gmail.com to chat about your next project!

Full-length studio shot of a female dancer balanced on one toe in a classic ballet pose. She is looking upward with arms outstretched, while her sheer maroon skirt billows dramatically around her. The lighting is bright and high-key, emphasizing the silhouette and the fluid motion of the fabric.

Capturing the Charm of Jude: A South West Family Portrait Session

It is an established maxim of the human experience that one can have too much of a good thing. Quite who "they" are, that dour, faceless committee of fun deniers I cannot say. But I am reasonably certain they never had the pleasure of meeting young Jude during his recent baby photoshoot.

Jude is currently eight months into his earthly residency and possesses the sort of effortless, devastating charm that suggests he is destined to leave a trail of broken hearts from here to the Cotswolds. While we are on the subject of biological unfairness, we must discuss his hair. It is a mane of such implausible, swishing voluptuousness that I found myself gripped by a sudden envy; some fellows are simply dealt a better hand by the follicular gods.

Behind the Scenes at My South West Photography Studio

Being the offspring of the South West’s most accomplished drama coach, I naturally assumed that photographing a baby as charismatic as Jude would be child’s play. I placed our pint-sized star beneath a softbox of such cavernous dimensions it could have doubled as an aircraft hangar and prepared for the magic.

As a professional portrait photographer, I’ve seen it all, but Jude dialled the cuteness up to a level that would have rendered a hardened Victorian schoolmaster misty-eyed. My shutter clicked, the flashes popped, and for a moment, I thought I had mastered the art of the infant portrait.

The Challenge of Family Photography

However, pride goeth before a fall. Having secured a "bag" of winning solo shots, I decided to raise the stakes by introducing Mum into the frame. This, it turned out, was my Waterloo.

It appears that a happy, beaming eight month old is far more interested in the familiar, radiant face of his mother than in some sweating chap pointing a heavy glass and metal contraption at his nose. To capture that perfect mother and baby smile required a level of physical exertion I hadn't prepared for. I found myself scooting across the studio floor with the frantic grace of a startled crab, desperately seeking an angle to preserve these fleeting moments of domestic bliss.

If capturing such joy is indeed a "good thing," then I must respectfully disagree with the faceless overlords: I don’t think I could ever possibly have enough of it.

Ready to Capture Your Family’s Story?

Those "fleeting moments" pass by in the blink of an eye, especially those implausible hairstyles and gummy smiles. Whether you are looking for a relaxed baby photoshoot or a natural family portrait session in the South West, I would love to help you tell your story (even if it involves me scurrying across the floor like a crab to get the shot).

A curious toddler with blue eyes and blonde hair wears a white long sleeve shirt and a tan sherpa vest, posing on their stomach against a neutral studio background.

The Indignity of Editing and the Joy of Staying Dry

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There is something inherently noble about the landscape photographer, standing knee-deep in a freezing bog at four in the morning, waiting for a sunrise that, nine times out of ten, is obscured by a sky the colour of dirty dishwater. I have spent a significant portion of my life in such pursuits. However, since opening my new residency at Trident Studio, I have discovered a profound, almost unseemly sense of smugness that comes from being indoors.

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While the British weather outside has been performing its best impression of the Old Testament, mostly "The Great Flood" portion, I have been safely ensconced in the warm, dry embrace of the studio. It is a revelation. Over the last few weeks, my shutter button has been pressed with the sort of frantic frequency usually reserved for a teenager in a particularly juicy group chat.

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Portrait Photography: Making Stars and Facing Backlogs

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The primary cause of this mechanical exhaustion has been a delightful parade of talented young actors. We’ve been crafting the kind of professional headshots that I hope will soon be staring down from billboards or at least convincing a casting director that this person is precisely what their next period drama is missing.

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I’ve taken to muttering the phrase "MJC, Photographer to the Stars!" under my breath. It has a certain melodic quality to it, don’t you think?

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The downside of all this "stardom," of course, is the editing. I am currently staring down a backlog of post-processing that would make a Hollywood production office weep with exhaustion. Every hour spent in the glow of the studio lights results in several more spent in the much less glamorous glow of a computer monitor, meticulously adjusting the stray hairs of future Oscar winners.

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The Art of Motion: Dancing with Erica Mulkern

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Despite the looming mountain of digital files, I couldn't resist a "busman's holiday" this past Friday. Long before this business venture began, I had booked a session with the breathtakingly talented Erica Mulkern.

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Photographing dancers is a precarious business, mostly because one tends to become so mesmerized by the sheer, improbable elegance of the human form in motion that one forgets to actually, you know, take the picture. It is a genuine occupational hazard.

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Interestingly, despite the leaps and bounds, my inner portrait artist seems to have taken the wheel. My personal favourite from the session is a stark, black-and-white headshot. It captures a quiet intensity that all the movement in the world can’t quite replicate.

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Ready for Your Close-Up?

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But enough of this. The editing suite calls, and it is a jealous mistress.

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If you are looking for high-quality acting headshots or creative portrait photography that might just catch the eye of the next big casting director, and if you’d like to personally contribute to my mounting workload, I’d love to hear from you.

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You can reach out right here or visit me over at mjc-photography.com. I promise to stay indoors for the duration of our session.

A close up, black and white portrait of a woman looking directly at the camera with a serene expression. She is wearing a dark, sequined dress and elegant drop earrings. Her hand is delicately raised to her neck, showing two rings on her fingers. The lighting is dramatic, with soft shadows and light patterns across her face and neck.

A professional studio portrait of dancer Erica Mulkern seated on the floor, wearing a delicate blue ballet costume with puffed sleeves. Her ballet pointe shoes are positioned prominently in the foreground, showing signs of wear, while she looks toward the camera with a focused expression.

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Dog Photography at Radford Park | MJC Photography Plymouth

One of the more pressing reasons I have recently taken up a residency at Trident Studios is the simple, blissful reliability of a roof. It turns out that having a sturdy layer of industrial grade material between oneself and the heavens is a marvellous invention.

Mother Nature, it seems, took our collective grumbling about last summer’s hosepipe bans quite personally. In a fit of celestial overcompensation, she has spent the last few months ensuring we have enough precipitation to see us through to the next decade, and perhaps a small portion of the one after that.

Having been the grateful recipient of a gift voucher, available, I should shamelessly add, from our stall in the Tavistock Pannier Market (a chap has to eat, after all) I finally found a window of meteorological cooperation. It was a rare and fleeting opportunity to capture some photographs that didn’t involve me looking like a saturated North Sea fisherman in heavy duty Gore-Tex.

I decamped to Radford Park, a place of terrific, if slightly damp, variety. It boasts everything a photographer could desire: charmingly tumbledown stone buildings, an abundance of flora and fauna, and even a miniature castle that looks as though it were misplaced by a passing medieval giant.

In my mind’s eye, that dangerous place where logic rarely ventures,I envisioned elegant portraits of Luna set against vast, sweeping panoramic vistas. The reality, however, was somewhat more kinetic. Luna, evidently impressed by the terrain, decided the best way to appreciate the park was to traverse every square inch of it at breakneck speed.

It is a scene that has become distressingly familiar to the locals: a middle-aged man, increasingly red of face, prostrate in the mud with a camera clutched in his hand, emitting a series of desperate barks and whistles. All of this in the vain hope of arresting the subject’s attention for the fraction of a second required for a "formal" pose.

It is a specialized form of madness, I grant you. But oh, the elation when that frantic, muddy chaos aligns for one fleeting moment and becomes, quite simply, "The Shot."

If you have a four-legged friend who similarly treats the laws of physics as mere suggestions, I would love to meet them. Whether they prefer a dignified stroll or, like Luna, a series of frantic, mid-air acrobatics, we can capture a moment that actually lasts longer than a whistle.

Luna attempting to achieve low earth orbit in pursuit of a tennis ball at Radford Park

Landscape Photography at Looe Island: A Sunrise Guide for the Sleep Deprived

There is something about @thephotographyshow that compels a man to rummage through the hall closet, blow a thick layer of prehistoric dust off his gear, and remember exactly why he owns a tripod in the first place. It was four days of unadulterated, wide-eyed geekery, the sort of event where people discuss sensor cleaned-ness with the intensity of theologians. I spent my time listening to the formidable Rebecca Douglas and Josh Edgoose, and clumsily wrapping my oversized paws around pieces of kit so expensive they practically glowed. If my credit card possessed a voice, I suspect it would have spent the weekend screaming in a high, thin register before eventually seeking asylum in the wallet of someone far more sensible.

In my defence, the urge to go out and photograph a landscape has been difficult to satisfy lately, mostly because Mother Nature has spent the last month suggesting quite pointedly that we all stop what we’re doing and learn how to build arks. We have endured what feels like forty days and forty nights of rain, delivered with a persistence that can only be described as "biblical."

Consequently, when the sun was finally granted a day pass to appear in public, I knew I had to act. I consulted my "shot list" a document brimming with optimism and doomed intentions, and settled on Looe Island. Now, Looe Island is one of those places that requires a celestial alignment usually reserved for the return of Halley’s Comet; you need the right light, the right tide, and a specific lack of atmospheric grumpiness. For once, the universe blinked and agreed to cooperate. The tide had curiously decided to show me mercy, and the sunrise promised to be nothing short of spectacular.

All that remained was the small, localized tragedy of setting an alarm for 4:30 am.

To look at my portfolio, you might reasonably conclude that I am a man who views sleep as a redundant hobby. I can assure you this is not the case. My duvet is a formidable opponent, capable of pinning me down with the strength of a professional wrestler. It was only the looming, mountainous spectre of my impending credit card bill that finally goaded me out of bed.

And so, here I find myself: standing on a small, damp, rocky beach in the predawn gloom, waiting for the sun to do something worth recording. I am pinning my hopes on capturing an image so undeniably "saleable" that my bank manager might be persuaded to put down the telephone and leave me in peace.

A long-exposure sunrise over Looe Island in Cornwall, featuring a vibrant pink and orange sky reflecting onto dark, wet coastal rocks. The seawater is blurred into a soft, ethereal mist as it flows around the foreground rocks, with the silhouette of St George's Island on the horizon.

Professional Studio Headshots: Why Lighting is Your Secret Weapon.

The Laboratory of Light

Stepping into my studio is a bit like entering a high tech laboratory where the primary experiment is you. Out in the real world, the sun is a fickle beast, it’s either hiding behind a cloud, leaving you with the complexion of an unbaked biscuit, or it’s blinding you until you squint like a subterranean mole.

In the studio, however, light is my loyal servant. Through an arrangement of "softboxes" and "reflectors" terms that sound like they belong in a NASA briefing, I can sculpt a jawline where previously there was only a vague suggestion of one. Whether you need the crisp, authoritative "Power Gray" of a corporate executive or the moody, cinematic shadows required for a professional acting headshot, I have the dials to make it happen.

The Young Actor’s Dilemma

I have a particular soft spot for the young actors who come through my doors. For them, a headshot isn't just a profile picture; it’s a golden ticket. Casting directors spend approximately three seconds looking at a thumbnail before deciding if you’re the next "Brooding Lead" or "Quirky Best Friend."

The challenge for a young performer is looking like themselves, but on their absolute best day. Left to their own devices, many drama students arrive with a look of intense, Shakespearean tragedy or a grin so wide it looks painful.

At MJC-Photography, we work on the "Active Face." We find that middle ground where you aren't just staring at a glass lens, but rather looking through it at your next big role. It’s about capturing a spark of character that says, "I can carry this scene," without looking like you’re trying too hard to be a "Serious Artist."

Engineering the "Natural" Look

The great irony of my job is that looking "relaxed" is actually a feat of minor structural engineering.

Whether you’re a 19 year old Thespian or a 50 year old CFO, humans tend to retract their necks like startled tortoises the moment a camera appears. My role is to guide you through the "MJC-Photography choreography":

• The "Squinch": A micro adjustment of the eyes that translates to "I am incredibly competent" rather than "I have lost my contact lenses."

• The Lean: A physical posture that feels like you’re falling over but looks like pure, unadulterated confidence on a screen.

• The Chin Drop: Essential for avoiding the "looking up your own nose" angle.

Why It Matters (The SEO Soul of the Business)

In the vast, churning sea of the internet, your face is your favicon. An MJC-Photography studio headshot is a piece of high performance marketing equipment. It tells the world that you are a person of substance, someone who understands that details matter, and, most importantly, someone who doesn't have a bridesmaid’s shoulder permanently attached to their ear from a cropped wedding photo.

So, if your current headshot looks like it was captured by a doorbell camera during a power outage, come see me. I promise it’s much less painful than a rehearsal for The Crucible.

Professional headshot of a blonde woman in a brown top posing against a black studio background.

Why I Stopped Chasing Dopamine and Earned my LSINWP Instead: My Brush with Professional Sanity

I have a confession to make, and I suspect I am not alone in this particular modern malady. I am, quite hopelessly, a slave to the six inch glowing rectangle in my pocket.

It begins innocently enough, a quick check of the weather, perhaps and before I can blink, three hours of my life have evaporated into the digital ether. I sit there, transfixed, thumbing through a caloric intake of "likes" and the occasional "share," which provides just enough of a dopamine hit to keep me spiraling down the virtual rabbit hole. It is a strange, sedentary sort of demise.

In a desperate bid to reclaim my dignity, I decided to subject my work to a "panel of experts." Now, in my mind, the Society of Photographers, specifically the Society of International Nature and Wildlife Photographers (SINWP) does not consist of people who use emojis. I pictured them as a group of battle-hardened veterans kept in a windowless room, released only when some poor, unsuspecting soul (me) asks for a professional qualification assessment.

The Fridge-Door Ambition

With the kind of unbridled, goofy optimism my dog displays at the mere sound of a refrigerator door creaking open, I gathered twenty of my favorite images. I submitted them with a heart full of hope, metaphorically sitting on my haunches and waiting for a crumb of praise to fall from the judges' table.

I quickly realized, however, that these judges were not handing out treats for simply "being a good boy." They clearly hailed from the Cesar Millan school of photography training. I was not going to get a belly rub; I was going to get a dose of "tough love" that would make a drill sergeant blush.

From Retriever to Retriever (of Details)

The over enthusiastic Golden Retriever in my soul had to be sternly told to "sit." In its place, I had to summon the spirit of a focused German Shepherd. I spent weeks sniffing out every technical flaw, inspecting every pixel for "noise," and obsessing over composition with a level of intensity usually reserved for finding a lost tennis ball in high grass.

It was, I should admit, a grueling process of refinement. But I am delighted and more than a little relieved, to report that the "hard work" command finally paid off.

I am now officially reporting for duty as a proud recipient of a Licentiate of Photography (LSINWP). It turns out that while a "like" button is fleeting, the satisfaction of a professional qualification is, much like a well chewed bone, something you can really sink your teeth into.