Today, it reached its funding target! 🎯

I’ve been blown away by the response. Not just from those who have pledged, but from everyone who has shared posts, sent messages and helped spread the word.

If I’m honest, there was a part of me that wondered whether DO NOT BLOCK GATE succeeded because of one photograph rather than the work as a whole. The response to SPINE has given me confidence that people connect with the stories, the photographs and the way I see these events. For that reason, reaching the target feels incredibly personal!

SPINE began as a week spent on the Pennine Way during the Montane Winter Spine Race. Sleeping in lay-bys, following runners through snow and darkness, and trying to document not just the race itself but what it feels like to be there.

There are still more than three weeks left in the campaign, but reaching the target in five days feels like a milestone worth celebrating. 🥳

You can still pledge your support HERE.

Thank you for believing in the project!

David

After months of work behind the scenes, countless hours editing photographs, designing pages and refining every detail, I’m incredibly proud to finally share this project with the world.

SPINE is a photographic journey through the 2026 Montane Winter Spine Race. A week spent documenting the cold, isolation, exhaustion, resilience and humanity found along the Pennine Way in winter.

This isn’t a race guide or a history book.

It’s a photography book.

A collection of moments, landscapes, people and stories from one unforgettable week that I had the privilege of witnessing through my camera.

If you enjoyed DO NOT BLOCK GATE I truly believe this is its natural successor.

The Kickstarter is now live and every pledge helps bring this book into existence.

If you’d like to support the project but can’t pledge right now, a share means the world. Projects like this only succeed when people see them. Independent photography books live or die on reach, and every repost, share and mention helps put SPINE in front of someone who might connect with it.

As photographers, these are the projects that define us. The personal ones. The ones we pour ourselves into.

Thank you to everyone who has followed the journey so far and helped get it to this point.

Link to the Kickstarter page is HERE

SPINE is now live.

Today I’m finally sharing the cover for SPINE.

This project was born from one unforgettable week documenting the 2026 Montane Winter Spine Race. Following runners across the Pennine Way through snow, darkness and winter weather, trying to capture not just the race itself, but what it feels like to be there.

From the beginning, I knew I didn’t want this to look like a traditional running book.

I wanted it to feel like a worthy follow-up to DO NOT BLOCK GATE.

I wanted the cover to feel like a whiteout.

Quiet. Empty. Minimal. Silence.

Space. Cold. Isolation.

This first image shows the dust jacket.

Beneath it sits the actual book itself — a minimalist white cover featuring only the word SPINE.

The book will then be housed inside a black slipcase featuring the line of the Pennine Way.

I had the time of my life making this project. Meeting inspiring runners, volunteers and people along the route during one incredible week in winter. This book is the result of that experience.

The Kickstarter launches soon, and I’d be incredibly grateful if you’d click the link HERE and pre-register your interest. It takes just a few seconds and means you’ll be among the first to know when the campaign goes live.

Thank you to everyone who has supported the project so far. I’m excited to share more over the coming days!

David :)

I went to photograph the London Marathon this year without a media pass.

No finish line access.

No controlled angles.

No brief.

Just a Leica Q3 Monochrom in my hand and a decision to stay on the edges of it all. I wasn’t interested in photographing the version of the marathon we’ve already seen.

There’s a point in the race where things start to change. The crowds are still there. The noise is still there. But something underneath shifts.

That’s where I stayed.

I saw people finish and not celebrate.

I saw people sit in silence, staring at their phones — sharing the moment, rather than being in it.

I saw bodies shut down against walls, on pavements, on steps.

I saw someone being pushed through the course in a wheelchair, disappearing into heat and spray.

I saw the aftermath building up — bottles, wrappers, discarded fuel — everything it took to get people to the line, now left behind.

I saw signs held up by strangers that said more than the event ever could.

I saw moments where people looked completely alone, even surrounded by thousands.

That’s the version of the marathon I’m interested in. Not the spectacle.

The London Marathon is often presented as something Cinematic. Clean. Inspirational. A finish line moment wrapped up in a neat story.

But when you step away from that — when you stop chasing the obvious — it becomes something else entirely.

Messy. Quiet. Human.

There’s a comedown that no one talks about.

There’s a moment after the finish where the body stops but the mind hasn’t caught up yet. And no one really prepares you for that.

Shooting on the Leica Q3 Monochrom forced me to stay honest.

No colour to hide behind. No distractions pulling you away from what’s actually in front of you.

Just Light. Texture. Contrast. And whatever truth is there.

It strips everything back to the essentials.

And what’s left isn’t always comfortable.

This work isn’t about the London Marathon.

It’s about endurance when no one’s watching.

It’s about what happens when the story breaks down and all that’s left is the reality of it.

People at their limits.

People coming back from it.

People sitting quietly in the aftermath, trying to make sense of it.

That’s the side of it I’ll always choose to photograph.

—Miller

If you want to continue supporting my work, this is where it happens. You can explore and collect prints through my online store HERE.

You’ve seen the teasers — now I’m really excited to finally share what I’ve been working on.

Back in January, I spent long, relentless days and nights out on the Winter Spine Race. It was tough, unpredictable, and at times pretty unforgiving — but from the very beginning, there was always a bigger goal in mind. This wasn’t just about documenting the race. It was about building something lasting from it.

I’m incredibly proud to say that I’ve now signed a deal with the Spine Race and Vertebrate Publishing to create a photo book documenting the 2026 Winter Spine Race.

To be collaborating with the Spine Race on a project like this is special in itself — but to also be working again with Vertebrate Publishing, after Do Not Block Gate, makes it even more meaningful. It feels like a natural continuation, and a huge step forward.

As photographers, we live for projects like this. The ones that push you, challenge you, and demand everything you’ve got — creatively and physically. These are the opportunities that shape us, and the work that will define us in the years to come.

This book will be brought to life through Kickstarter, and I’d love for you to be part of it from the very beginning.

If you’re interested in following the journey and being the first to hear when it launches, you can pre-register your interest HERE.

More details very soon — this is just the start.

—Miller

A chance to slow things down and revisit the images that have stayed with me.

There was only ever one place to begin ⬇️

This photograph was taken on 22nd March 2024, at the finish of the Barkley Marathons. It shows Jasmin Paris becoming the first woman to ever complete the race.

A moment of history—for the Barkley, and for women’s running.

I heard the cheers first.

Low at first, then building—carrying up the road. At Barkley, that sound cuts through everything. It means someone is coming in.

You learn to trust that.

I didn’t wait to see. I moved.

What I did next was instinctive. I dropped low to the ground, not reacting to the moment, but trying to get ahead of it. Anticipating what was about to happen rather than chasing it.

And then Jasmin came through.

She had nothing left.

She ran straight into the gate, unable to slow down, her body folding underneath it before sliding to the ground. It wasn’t controlled, it wasn’t composed—it was the complete absence of anything left to give.

And I pressed the shutter 📸

Jasmin later described that moment perfectly:

“I’ve never had to dig as deep as I did on that final sprint to the gate. I had nothing left to give, my legs and lungs were screaming at me to stop, the crowd on either side reduced to a blur of colour and noise. I ran straight into it, unable to control any sort of deceleration, my body flipping forwards before sliding to the ground. I can’t really recall any sense of achievement at that moment, just an overwhelming feeling of relief at being able to breathe. I lay under that gate gasping for what felt like an age, completely spent, having given everything I had”.

It was important to me that Jasmin was the centrepiece of the frame.

Everything else falls around her—the gate, the crowd, the noise—but she is the image. This moment belongs entirely to her.

Behind her are so many of the figures that define Barkley. Legends who understand exactly what it takes to get there. Their reactions—phones out, leaning in, watching closely—add another layer to it.

And something most people don’t notice: in the very top left of the frame is Lazarus Lake’s hand, resting on the gate. A small detail, easy to miss, but it feels significant in a race built so much around him.

This was shot on a Leica Q2 Monochrom.

The black and white matters. It strips everything back—removes distraction, removes time. It gives the image a kind of permanence. It could have been taken yesterday, or decades ago.

It feels timeless.

When I look at this photograph now, I don’t just see a finish.

I see relief.

I see total exhaustion.

And I see a moment that will be remembered for a very long time.

It’s probably the most important photo I’ll ever take.

Prints of this image are available HERE.

This is part of an ongoing series—Behind the Photo.

If this image meant something to you, I’d really appreciate you sharing the post—it helps more people find my work.

And I’d love to hear from you:

What do you see when you look at this image?

And is there a photo you’d like me to break down next?

Drop a comment below and let me know.

—Miller

Not just here—but in my life and work too.

I’ve recently moved into my own office space. It might sound like a small thing, but for me it represents a huge shift. A place that’s entirely mine to create in, to think in, to build from. After years of working in shared or temporary spaces, having a dedicated environment feels like planting a flag: this is real, and I’m all in.

Alongside that, I’m pushing forward with my freelance photography business with more intention than ever. There’s something about physically stepping into a new space that sharpens your mindset. It’s a fresh chapter—and I’m approaching it with energy, focus, and a lot of excitement for what’s ahead.

Part of that journey is continuing to share and sell my work. Prints have always been a big part of what I do—they’re tangible, lasting, and a way for people to connect with the images beyond a screen. If you’ve ever considered supporting my work, now would mean a lot.

To celebrate this new chapter, I’m offering 20% off all prints throughout April using the code MILLER20. You can purchase prints HERE.

It genuinely makes a difference. Supporting creatives—whether through buying work, sharing it, or even just engaging with it—helps keep this whole thing moving forward. And I don’t take that lightly.

There’s also something exciting brewing behind the scenes. I’m very close to announcing a major project. Contracts are signed, and everything is in motion—so it’s not a matter of if, but when. I can’t say too much just yet, but it’s something I’m incredibly proud to be involved in, and I can’t wait to share more very soon.

Beyond that, I’ve got a lot of smaller projects in the works—ideas, shoots, collaborations—all quietly building. It feels like everything is starting to gather momentum at once, and honestly, it’s one of the most exciting periods I’ve had in a long time.

This Substack will be part of that.

I’ll be sharing a monthly Substack, writing about a mix of topics—from behind-the-scenes insights and creative process to reflections on projects and the realities of building a freelance career.

If you’ve made it this far—thank you. Whether you’ve followed my work for years or just arrived here, I really appreciate your support.

Here’s to new spaces, new projects, and what comes next.

—Miller