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Wire Stylist
When I photographed “Wire Stylist”, I was struck by the absurd elegance of decay — a rusted doorbell, its wires splayed like an eccentric haircut. The scene felt alive without life, playful and tragic in the same breath. It wasn’t planned. I noticed it while walking past an old building, the kind of wall that’s been painted too many times and forgotten once too often. The exposed wires twisted outward in chaotic curls, catching light in a way that almost mocked order. The eccentric “hair” needed asymmetry to feel spontaneous. Straightening the shot would have sterilised the humour. I left slight tilt and irregular framing to preserve its found quality.
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Pillars
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The TelcoMan
Kneeling on the pavement, the technician works in silence, half-hidden by the open cabinet. Bundles of pink cables spill out like veins, each one carrying invisible conversations, connections, lives. His tools lie at his side, modest instruments set against the tangle of modern infrastructure. Composition is direct, almost humble. The man’s back occupies the centre, his form sturdy against the geometry of pavement and wall. The cabinet, with its warning signs and exposed wiring, becomes both workplace and frame. Foreground lines in the stone lead the viewer’s eye inevitably towards him, emphasising the solitary nature of the task. Technically, the exposure is balanced in soft outdoor light. The dark blue…
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Crate
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Red Dot
Some images announce themselves with complexity; others with quiet restraint. This one does so with a single point of vivid colour—the red hat—set against a palette of muted sand, sea, and sky. It’s a study in minimalism, yet it avoids sterility. The human figure, bent slightly forward, and the small dog at their side bring a sense of companionship to an otherwise expansive emptiness. Compositionally, the frame is built on horizontal layers: foreground sand, a band of ochre beach, the blue strip of sea, and a pale sky. The subject stands almost dead centre, which in some contexts could flatten the dynamic, but here it serves to anchor the eye…
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Hanging
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An Open Gate
On a cold, colourless morning in a deserted lot the rain had just stopped, and the air was still heavy with moisture. The open gates, rusted and leaning slightly outward, looked like punctuation marks in a sentence no one was reading anymore. The puddle between them mirrored a sky stripped of light — the kind of silence that asks to be photographed.
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Bulbs
This photograph was taken from the ground up, the lens almost brushing the asphalt. By choosing such a low perspective, the surface of the road becomes as important as the row of streetlights that recede into the distance. The texture of the pavement dominates the foreground, glistening with a grainy sharpness that catches the artificial glow. Technically, the image pushes the limits of night photography. The exposure is long enough to register detail in the dimly lit environment, yet short enough to keep the lamps from collapsing entirely into pure white orbs. The result is a series of glowing bulbs, haloed by flare, guiding the eye deeper into the composition.…
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Too Big To Be Dumped
This frame came to life walking past an alley where time seems to have hit pause. The bins stand in perfect alignment, regimented like bureaucratic soldiers, while behind them, the decaying wall tells a different story—chaotic, layered, unresolved. I shot this with a 35mm prime, letting the midday sun carve stark shadows that add to the irony of this supposed order. The exposure demanded precision. Too much light and I’d have lost the texture on the old plaster; too little and the bins would sink into murk. I leaned into the contrast, embracing the Leica’s natural tonal harshness in black and white. No dramatic angles, no “decisive moment” flourish—just frontal,…
