I took this photo on 1 March 2010 as we were leaving the Tate Modern to walk back across the Thames towards St. Paul’s. At first, I just wanted a photo of the bridge itself. But the clouds were so striking that I began to circle the south entrance a bit and started to play with the symmetry of it all.

I was shooting with a Panasonic Lumix GF1 and a Panasonic 20mm pancake lens – a combination that would become one of my favorites. The GF1 is a micro 4/3 format sensor, so the 20mm lens had the 35mm equivalent perspective of a 40mm, which I always felt was the best approximation of my personal field of view. Many people feel the 35mm lens is more accurate, but having worn glasses my whole life, my field of view is just a bit narrower due to the eyeglass frames.

So, I took about ten shots, trying to frame squarely and level, and proceeded to cross the bridge. It was only that evening, when editing the photos in the hotel room, that I noticed every person was walking away from me – there were no faces coming towards me. There are some very small faces in the background, looking out over the river, but the main group of people are all walking away. This is the reason I call the image Exodus.

This image has gone on to become one of my personal favorites. When I look at it I always see new things, such as the way the bridge splits vertically, with some people heading up and towards the dome of St. Paul’s and the fluffy clouds, with others heading down and “into” the water of the Thames.

Perhaps my only frustration is the sensor size on the GF1. With such a small sensor, and “only” 12 megapixels, it doesn’t afford me much cropping space, especially if I want to print large. It can also be a bit noisy at higher ISOs. But the compact size of the body and lens combination, and the overall quality of the photos it produced, make it one of the best early mirrorless cameras, and the perfect travel camera.

Photo Critique:

This photograph, titled Exodus, offers a profound narrative through its composition, where all the figures are walking away from the viewer. The deliberate framing invites reflection on movement, departure, and the flow of human life. The choice to name the photo Exodus adds a layer of meaning, evoking themes of collective journey, transition, and perhaps even liberation.

The Millennium Bridge serves as both a literal and metaphorical pathway in this image. Stretching toward the distant St. Paul’s Cathedral, the bridge symbolizes a connection between the past and the future, tradition and modernity. The figures walking away emphasize the passage of time and the inevitable forward momentum of life. There is a contemplative stillness in the viewer’s stationary position, juxtaposed with the dynamic yet silent procession of the figures.

The title Exodus recalls historical and biblical narratives of mass departure—journeys often fraught with purpose and transformation. Here, however, the journey appears peaceful, everyday, and unhurried, suggesting a modern, secular pilgrimage. The Millennium Bridge, known for linking two cultural landmarks, becomes a metaphorical bridge between the physical and the spiritual, the tangible and the intangible. The figures might symbolize individuals seeking meaning, leaving behind the familiar to move toward something greater, whether that be art, culture, or personal growth.

The monochromatic tone of the photograph enhances its contemplative quality. The absence of color reduces distractions, sharpening the focus on form, movement, and atmosphere. The reflections on the glass railings mirror the figures, creating a sense of duality—a reminder that while people move forward physically, they may also be reflecting inwardly on their own journeys.

In Exodus, the bridge is not just a structure; it is a stage where the universal themes of departure, connection, and purpose are played out. The image invites the viewer to ponder their own journey: Where are we headed? What are we leaving behind? And what awaits us on the other side?