When I was a very young kid I absolutely loved my Viewmaster.

I gazed in awe at the super-saturated images - somehow more real than real, but simultaneity unreal, artificial places, airless, vacuum-packed realms, vignettes frozen in time and space. I explored these grand yet oddly miniature-looking vistas. Some seemed welcoming, some slightly unsettling, but each reel a gateway to an endlessly infinite parallel universe contained in a flat cardboard disc barely 1mm thick.

Viewmaster was more than a window into a world - it was a door into a way of feeling something really incredible about an image. This world, this feeling was somewhere I wanted to visit again and again.

I also wanted to find out how this wonderland was created, perhaps even with the ultimate goal of climbing in there, but sadly Experiment 01 was a failure.

And then for reasons unknown I put the lot in a shoebox until 2010, when 
I began to explore what it was that I found so utterly enthralling about these images.

Soon I was not just rediscovering the beauty of the everyday world - I was also feeling my way towards some sort of deeper intangible truth about what art does to the soul that my cardboard glasses free with a special 3D page three edition of The Sun newspaper allowed me to almost but not quite reach out and grasp.

I bought myself a 3D camera and photographed and filmed things that wouldn't be worthy of a site seeing brochure. I gazed in wonder upon a shopping mall carpark - ferret racing and my flatmate making a cup of tea.

Then I went to France and came back with a beautiful (but slightly temperamental) handmade rig. I'll tell you more about that another time.

I also now have a domestic (ie. 35mm not large format) Viewmaster camera! AND the six year old me would be amazed to know that there is an ex-Viewmaster photographer at my 3D club. Cor.

Anyway, I'm still making 3D films, and have some more elaborate projects in the pipeline. For now please see below if you'd like to watch some I made earlier...