I’m David Pleydell — photographer, storyteller, and the eye behind Light & Life.

For me, photography has never been about perfection. It’s about noticing moments — the ones most people walk past, or never realise were there to begin with.

My work is grounded in truth. Whether it’s a fog-draped Melbourne street, the quiet resilience in a portrait, or the charged stillness before a storm rolls in, I aim to capture what’s already there — not create something artificial. No heavy filters, no pretence. Just light, life, and the space in between.

Photography found me early, back in 1983 with a battered film camera during the Ash Wednesday bushfires. I later trained at the International College of Photography and Cinematography in Melbourne, building a foundation in portraiture. But over time, I realised the images that stayed with me weren’t the perfectly posed ones — they were the ones that happened just after. When people relaxed, moved, or forgot the camera was there.

That’s where I like to work.

“Most people don’t see what’s right in front of them — I do.”

I’m drawn to contrast — not just visually, but emotionally. Beauty and decay. Stillness and energy. Control and chaos. Sometimes the environment tells as much of the story as the person in it, and I let both exist in the frame.

Today, my work moves between:
• Still Cityscapes — the Melbourne you never knew was quiet, foggy, or empty
• Weather’s wild moods — storms, fog, and everything in between
• Everyday people — portraits that feel lived-in, not posed

I know how to create clean, professional images when the moment calls for it — but what drives me is what happens in between. The unplanned expression, the shift in body language, the feeling you can’t stage.

I believe a photograph should breathe. Not perfect — but honest.

When I’m not behind the lens, you’ll find me experimenting on a DIY idea, road-tripping with my family, out in the bush with a fishing rod, or quietly trying not to make every project bigger than it needs to be. A campfire and a cold one — that’s my reset.

If my work makes you feel like you were standing there… smelling the rain, tasting the fog, hearing the stillness — then the story’s already been shared.

And that’s the point.