The Barbican Estate sits at the northern edge of the City of London — 35 acres of Brutalist housing designed by Chamberlin, Powell and Bon, built across the 1960s and 70s on a bombsite from the Second World War. Bush-hammered concrete towers above raised walkways, lakes hemmed in by fortress walls, signs in a typeface that has barely changed in fifty years. People who don't live there get lost within ten minutes. People who do navigate it by muscle memory.

Life at the Barbican is my ongoing attempt to photograph it not as a curiosity, and not as architectural set-dressing, but as a place where people live. I started walking it years ago, drawn in by the geometry. I keep going back because of the residents.

The series is made on foot, in available light, with no staging. I'll walk the same route forty times and most of those walks produce nothing. But the estate has its own weather — the way the late afternoon sun cuts low across the podium for fifteen minutes, the way the underpasses keep shadow long after the rest is bright. You wait for the building to do something, then you wait for someone to walk into it.

The figures here are usually residents. Their tenancy of these walkways is what makes the building work as architecture — it was always meant to be lived in, not visited. The launderette, the benches under the overhang, the man on the same morning seat for years: the estate behaving as the estate.

Selected images are available as limited-edition prints. The series is ongoing — new work goes up a few times a year. For commissions, exhibitions, or print enquiries, get in touch.