60 is a conceptual photography project that examines how movement, time, and memory shape the way we see. The series was photographed along the Glasgow–Wemyss Bay railway line, a journey that takes about 60 minutes and covers roughly 60 miles. Working with a fixed shutter speed of 1/60s and an edit of exactly 60 images, the project sets up a repeatable framework where time, distance, and photographic parameters align. This structure is not decorative but methodological: it turns the mechanics of the train and the optics of the camera into part of the work itself.

Rather than presenting the landscape as a static view, the project embraces the contingencies of travel—the blur of foreground fences, the reflections across the glass, the water marks and scratches left by time. These elements are not treated as flaws but as evidence of being there, translating the psychological state of departure into visual texture. In this way, 60 shifts from documenting objects to documenting the act of looking: how clarity and uncertainty coexist when we are in transit.

The work is also rooted in personal memory. Growing up in China, I often travelled on trains with my father and grandfather, both of whom worked in the railway system. Looking out of the window became a natural habit, a way of experiencing the world in between places. Revisiting that experience in Scotland, the project connects individual memory with shared cultural histories of the railway—as both a symbol of progress and a space of hesitation, farewell, and escape.

By combining technical consistency with openness to chance, 60 positions photography as a collaboration between machine, environment, and the body in transit. It speaks to broader conversations about slowness, imperfection, and the texture of time in contemporary visual culture, offering images that invite viewers not simply to see where the train is going, but to feel what it means to be on the way.