The journey of an amateur photographer from Melbourne, Australia

I'm not necessarily big on point and shoots, but for anyone who knows a bit about film photography, they would know that there's a few gold nuggets in the wide expanse of shitty Haminex and rebranded Vivitar compacts. Machines like the Contax G2 and Nikon 35Ti spring to mind, but there are some decent point and shoots that don't require you to remortgage your house. One of those is the Nikon L35AF.

The Nikon L35AF was Nikon's first autofocus point and shoot 35mm camera, released in 1983. Designed by Giorgetto Giugiaro, it features a 35mm f/2.8 lens, timer function, built in pop up flash and all in a somewhat compact case. It'll fit in the pocket of your big warm winter jacket, but forget sticking this into the front of your stretch Levis. Nikon made one further enhancement to the L35AF, increasing its maximum ISO capability from a paltry 400 to a respectable 1000, and also released a similar model that can imprint a date on the photo — the L35AD. Unfortunately, subsequent models of autofocus Nikon point and shoots were either stripped back in features, stripped back in supplied lens capability, or stripped back in build quality. The R&D Nikon undertook at the time must've took its toll on the accounting department, and perhaps the bean-counters started moving in and cut back whatever they can to recuperate costs.

It was a trip to the Milawa wine region just south of Wangaratta in Victoria, when I first laid my eyes on the ever-imposing old Oxley Flour Mill. A large sandy-red brick building protruding proudly above a very flat flood plain, the building stuck out of the surrounding trees, as if to stare at you as you drive by, making sure that no crazy shenanigans are afoot with the upcoming weekend of indulgence of wine and cheese.

Subsequent visits to Milawa and the King River Valley region only made me want to take a photo of this magnificent and sturdy, yet unused and dilapitated brick building. So back in May 2023, as we visited Milawa again, I was determined to take a photo of this landmark.

I had spent a long time in Melbourne's CBD for work, and a big portion of that time was at Guildford Lane. This now-picturesque and somewhat famous laneway of Melbourne wasn't always like the pictures you see in my blog post – for a long time, it was a drab red-brick lined blue stone cobbled laneway, dotted with old motorbike mechanic workshops that have long since gone bust, contained an electrical substation, and bookended by sketchy looking pubs and backpacker hostels.

Then sometime pre-Covid 2020, a greenery program started to take shape in the laneway, with lots of planter boxes, steel cabling for vine growing and shelving furniture for pots installed, along with the plants themselves. I don't recall the exact details, but I think it was a collaboration between LaTrobe University and the City of Melbourne. Over time, these plants had grown and blossomed, have been looked after by the residents of the laneway, and has drawn some attention by visitors as they marvel at the transformation. Most laneways are small, cramped and full of pasties and graffiti – by all means all acceptable to have in Melbourne – but I am a stickler for greenery, and the greening program really delivered in spades.