A Skull

I made this photograph in near darkness, peering through a narrow stone opening where a skull lay against the rough wall. The framing itself creates a sense of confinement: the viewer sees only what the aperture allows, a forced perspective that heightens the impact of the subject. The starkness of the skull, caught in dim light, is amplified by the deep shadows surrounding it.

Technically, the image embraces its limitations. Low light produces grain and softness, yet these imperfections serve the atmosphere. The highlights on the skull’s surface are blown in places, but this uneven exposure adds to the sense of unease, as if the bone reflects light reluctantly. The texture of stone and bone alike is emphasised by the black-and-white rendering, where tonal contrast replaces colour as the key expressive element.

What resonates here is not simply the presence of a skull but the way it emerges from darkness. It feels unearthed, suspended between visibility and concealment. The photograph avoids theatrics; it relies instead on the quiet weight of mortality, rendered through composition and scarcity of light.

The result is an image both documentary and symbolic: a literal record of a bone relic, yet also an emblem of time, decay, and remembrance. The darkness around it does not just frame the skull — it swallows everything else, leaving only this fragment of what once was.