Sit. Watch. Capture. From East to West—Turkey, Greece, Montenegro, Italy—Mitch Noakes records his growing fixation with coastal solitude. Soft and slow, like the waves lapping at the shore, Mitch becomes one with his subjects, in a perpetual Sunday state where duty never calls. It's high UV indulgence rebranded as self-care, and we're buying it.
Photos: Mitch Noakes // @mitch.noakes
What began as obsession has become understanding, Mitch preaches a slow lifestyle focused on presence over productivity. With that, he invites you to pause at this debut solo exhibition Slowdown, April 24th–26th, Comber Street Studios, 5 Comber Street, Paddington NSW 2021. BYO sunscreen.
Mitch, good to connect again. What’s been happening lately?
Hey Lincoln, it’s great to be back and connecting with the Hung Supply community, the Hung Supply Sidewalk Camera Sling has been keeping my kit safe all around the world lately.
Where are you currently based?
I’m splitting my time between Berlin and Sydney, I’m chasing that eternal summer. That reminds me, summer is about to begin in Europe. It’s time I jump on a plane.
This is your debut solo exhibition, when did Slowdown first start to take shape as a body of work, not just a collection of images?
Slowdown started for me in 2024, on back-to-back trips to Greece and Turkey. I didn’t exactly set out to create this body of work, but it naturally formed over the start of that European summer, and then continued to evolve and fully inhabit my work.
What was the initial moment that sparked it?
On my first trip to Athens, I found myself enamoured by the slow life of the Greek people basking in the sun by the ocean. This is where the first image from the series was captured, a Greek gentleman showering.
Next, I travelled to Turkey, and after a week with a friend in the oceanside mountains of Fethiye, I planted myself solo on the beaches in Alanya with both my stills and video cameras, with the sole purpose of capturing people. For three days, I sat, watched, and captured.
The hero film was all shot in three hours on Dalamatis Plaji in Alanya, from just after sunrise until I got too burnt to sit any longer. I look back at that film now in awe of how many moments presented themselves to me.
I never approach my subjects, and most of the time they never know I’ve been there. It’s my duty to capture and never disturb. But I feel a strong connection with them through my lens. I have my own stories of why they were there, but I’ll never know what made them need their moments of solace.
The work feels like a quiet resistance to the pace of modern times. Was that something you set out to explore consciously?
At the time, I wasn’t aware of what sparked my curiosity about the stillness of people by the ocean, but I began capturing it with such obsession. Most of the time I am by myself, searching out stories, but on one trip I was accompanied by a good friend, Ryan. He asked, “Why do we always have to make time for you to take photos of old people at the beach?” I didn’t have an answer, but I knew there was something I needed from it.
Upon returning to Berlin from that trip to Greece and Turkey, I completely collapsed. I was bedridden for a week with exhaustion, not just physical, but mental. I was burnt out. I had been living what I considered at the time to be ‘the dream’, being flown around the world to shoot incredible people, events, and places. But it turns out, without the right self-care, it was killing me.
At that point, it all made sense. My body was subconsciously telling me to slow down, just like the people I was captivated by photographing. So I did. I focused on slowing down myself, and set off around Europe to continue building this body of work over the next 18 months, but in a much more mindful way.
You mention being drawn to people in almost trance-like states by the ocean. Why the ocean, and what was it about those moments that stood out to you early on?
The ocean has always helped me calm down and find perspective. Growing up on the South Coast of NSW, I was always in the water. Moving to Berlin took me away from that, and although Berlin brings so much to my life, I still feel a strong pull to find stillness by the ocean.
The series spans Italy, Greece, Montenegro, and Turkey. Did the changing locations influence the work, or was there a consistent feeling you were chasing across all destinations?
It’s a very prominent trait of European culture to slow down and take moments in, to appreciate the time we have right now. That’s what I was searching for each time I shot in these locations. A lot of these images sit in stillness. Nothing overtly “happening,” yet they hold attention.
What are you looking for when you decide to press the shutter?
A feeling of calm, like a huge breath out. That’s what I feel each time I press the shutter.
The exhibition includes both stills and moving images, including a 10-minute hero film. How do you think about the relationship between motion and stillness in this body of work?
I love photography, the ability to catch a single moment in a frame forever. But if I’m asking the viewer to truly consider slowing down, how can they not see the photos as a fleeting moment that maybe held no real stillness beyond that instant? The videos are proof that even with the chaos of a busy beach around them, these people are still. They are silent. They are present. And you can be too.
You’ve come from a background in commercial directing and advertising, and I know firsthand how intense and high-pressure those environments can be. Does Slowdown feel like an antithesis to your professional work?
It is the complete antithesis. I love my commercial work, but to sit on a beach for hours by myself with only my cameras, no storyboard or treatment, is quite a dream. And if I can capture the beauty in human stillness and share that with people, maybe even encourage someone to be more still, I feel I’ve brought something positive into the world.
How do you personally slow down now, or at least try to? What does “doing nothing” look like for you these days?
Floating on my back in the ocean. Staring at the clouds. A lot of daydreaming. Nature can be so beautiful and still, but we’re always rushing through it. We have to remember that we are also nature, and that high-rise buildings, freeways, and the screen of your phone or computer are not where our bodies and minds find calm.
I’m constantly needing to take my own advice to slow down. Putting on this exhibition holds me accountable; it helps me continue practising what I preach.
Slowdown feels less like a statement and more like an invitation. What do you hope people take away, or even just notice, after spending time with it?
The need to be busy, successful, and always productive is shoved into our faces everywhere we go, through Instagram reels, our bosses, our families, and complete strangers you meet at a party.
I hope that Slowdown takes you away from that, allows you a chance to breathe, and helps you realise that there is so much beauty in stillness. At the exhibition, you’ll first view a 10-minute film showing vignettes of people at the beach, no phones, no distractions, just them and their own stillness.
I encourage people to sit and watch it the whole way through as their entry point to the exhibition. It sets the tone for everything that follows in the still images. Invite yourself to be still.
Don't miss the 10-minute feature film on opening night, 6–9pm this Friday. Drinks provided by Young Henrys.
Opening hours
Friday 6-9pm (artist talk at 8pm)
Saturday 10am - 6pm (artist talk at 1pm)
Sunday 10am - 6pm (artist talk at 1pm)
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