At the theater, between two scenes

I took this on instinct. The curtain was down inside, but the real theatre was unfolding on the steps. Not dramatic, not rehearsed — just a handful of people suspended in that odd in-between: not quite arriving, not quite leaving. They scattered themselves across the stairs as if cast by some unseen director.

The architecture held them. A brutalist façade, cyan-oxidised and flaking like tired makeup. The symmetry of the stairs did most of the compositional work — I just centred the frame and waited. The banister slices the image vertically, anchoring the eye. One figure leans left, one right, each adjusting the balance.

Technically, it’s a colour study wrapped in structure. The teal wall competes with the red and purple shirts — not complementary, but jarring in a way that fits the mood. I exposed for the mid-tones, pulling enough out of the shadows on the lower steps without losing detail in the pale sky or the overcast dome. No dramatic light, just soft even cover — the kind that makes skin tones honest and textures real.

The shot works because of the tension between setting and subject. The building wants to impose itself. The people ignore it. They check phones, gesture, pause. It’s a theatre, but they’ve stepped out of their roles — or maybe into them, depending on how you look.

This is a moment before something. Or after. The middle of a sentence, a breath between cues. Photography lives well in that space.