An Inch of Wilderness

There is a jungle in the nearest hedge. A drop of dew is a lens with a landscape inside it; a moth's wing is upholstered like a theatre; the frost on a January window grows ferns that no greenhouse could. Macro photographers own no exotic destinations — only exotic distances.

The frames in this set were chosen for their patience: focus measured in millimetres, apertures begged for every scrap of depth, subjects that would leave if you breathed.

On a screen, a macro shot flips the usual arrangement — instead of your icons sitting on a big world made small, they sit on a small world made big. Somehow that feels more honest.