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Belgian Hats
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Belgian Gloves
There’s a certain satisfaction in encountering a composition that seems to have arranged itself for the camera, as though the visual world conspired to present its colours and forms in perfect order. Belgian Gloves offers just that: a tight row of leather gloves, each perched on a mannequin hand, marching in a perfect gradient from cool blues through greens, yellows, oranges, and finally deep reds. It is at once commercial display and chromatic study. From a compositional perspective, the image benefits enormously from its frontal, symmetrical framing. By positioning the gloves parallel to the camera, the photographer creates a sense of order that invites the eye to travel along the…
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Avid Readers
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Blow Up
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Fun
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Histoire d’O
Photography has a curious relationship with meaning. Sometimes it offers us a direct line to an obvious narrative; other times, it teases us with ambiguity, compelling the mind to reach for significance where perhaps none exists. This image—an aged, weathered architectural oval, framed in peeling plaster—belongs firmly in the latter category. Its title, Histoire d’O, borrows knowingly from the controversial novel of the same name, inviting the viewer to read into its form, its texture, and its emptiness. Technically, the photograph demonstrates a strong command of tonal control. The black-and-white treatment emphasises the interplay between texture and shadow, revealing the rough grain of the plaster, the fine cracks tracing across…
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Columns
In Brussels, this curved colonnade sits like an architectural punctuation mark in the middle of a park — a statement without a sentence. I positioned the frame to face it directly, giving symmetry the upper hand. The central alignment was intentional: it allows the gentle arc of the structure to pull the eye from one end to the other without distraction. The light was flat, filtered by a heavy overcast, which meant no harsh contrasts or deep shadows. This helped preserve the fine details in the stone — the weathering, the subtle variations in tone — while keeping the surrounding foliage rich but not overpowering. The grey of the columns…
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Orange Scarf
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The Path To Freedom
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Ceci N’Est Pas Une Pipe
The man stands on the pavement, absorbed in the small object between his fingers. From a distance, it could be mistaken for a pipe, but it is not — hence the title. The illusion, momentary and context-dependent, mirrors Magritte’s provocation: our assumptions often run ahead of the facts. I composed this with a clear separation of subject and background. The warm, textured brown of his jacket isolates him against the cooler tones of concrete and foliage, pulling the eye immediately toward him. The alignment along the right-hand third of the frame keeps the sidewalk stretching away into the background, giving a sense of space and urban depth. Technically, the exposure…
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Nightlife in Bruxelles
You can smell it before you hear it — the warm hum of beer, laughter, breath crystallising in the cold. This photo, taken in the backstreets of Brussels, isn’t a postcard of nightlife. It’s a sketch. Loose, fast, half in shadow. Which makes it all the more true. Cafés and pubs stack signs on top of each other like citations — Delirium, Floris Bar, Café, Pub, Garden. Every name lit, every door half-open, promising exactly what you need at this hour. But the terrace tables are empty, stacked in rows like punctuation marks between stories. It’s too cold to sit. Too late to be still. The people gather where the…
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Just In Case
Should you have some doubt, by reading the banner you can’t be mistaken. Clarity can be a virtue, even when it delivers its message with the blunt weight of inevitability. Here, a simple blue sign announces the location of the mortuary—not just once, but three times, in three languages. French, Latin, English. No ambiguity, no chance of misunderstanding. Just in case. The composition frames the sign against the muted greys of the surrounding architecture, a deliberate choice to strip away distractions. The words stand out, rendered in stark, functional typography, their neutrality belying the emotional weight of the place they indicate. Photography thrives on layers of meaning, and here the…
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Ni État Ni Patron
Brussels. A quiet wall, a passing car, and a message that’s louder than both. The slogan is old—older than the paint used to scrawl it—Ni État Ni Patron. No state, no boss. A phrase that echoes from factories, barricades, pamphlets. And now, here it is again, on a half-covered stretch of rendered concrete. It wasn’t written to decorate. It was written to remain. The graffiti stands out not just for what it says, but for where it says it: in the middle of a freshly patched rectangle, painted over what was clearly another message before it. The wall becomes a palimpsest—layers of resistance, erasure, and return. Below it, a car…
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Poetry Still Survives
Blessed be the city, where somebody can earn his day, by selling poetry.
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Whatever You Stand For, Vote!
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Guru Meditation
Airports are temples of waiting. They strip away the illusion of control, leaving travellers suspended in time between one place and another. In that in-between, people invent ways to cope. Here, in a lounge of muted reds and glassy daylight, a man folds himself into a private space. One leg drawn up, back curved, cap pulled low, he cradles a tablet as if it were a small book or a talisman. His fingers rest lightly on it, not tapping, not scrolling—just holding. The surrounding noise and movement dissolve in his stillness. This is meditation for the digital age. Not in a forest clearing or a candlelit room, but in an…
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An Unplausable Perspective
There is something odd in this photo, isnt’it?
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Belgian Ghosts
Midnight still has to come. But in Bruxelles even ghosts wake up early… The air was damp, the pavement glistening faintly under the sodium lamps. I wasn’t chasing a scene — only watching light. Then someone walked through the frame, absorbed in their own path, and the moment shaped itself. The passer-by moved too quickly for the shutter speed I’d set. At first, I thought I’d lost the shot. Then, reviewing it, I realised that the blur was the picture — motion distilled into presence. The figure became anonymous, spectral, more gesture than person. It summed up urban life in that hour: everyone moving, no one quite seen.
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The Eye
Another example of the constant brain’s meaning quest in the things the eye sees. It wasn’t supposed to look back. This is the underside of a building’s curved overhang, a detail most people would never glance up to see. Shot from the ground in perfect alignment, it becomes something else entirely: an iris of steel and shadow, a lens with no glass, watching the world below. I titled it The Eye not just for the shape, but for the feeling. The symmetry is strict—deliberate, almost mechanical—yet the reflection in the polished granite softens it, turning precision into something poetic. A full circle emerges where there’s only a half. What’s solid becomes imagined.…
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Two Beers, One Cigarette
Not staged. Swear to God!
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Same Seats, Different Lifes
They’re close, but never been so distant
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Traffic Jam in Bruxelles
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Perfect Strangers
This was shot at a crossing in Brussels. Late afternoon, golden hour starting to lean into haze, and the kind of sidelight that makes the most mundane street scenes feel sculptural. I wasn’t looking for a story—I was just following the light. What I got instead was this: two people, frozen in proximity, framed by urban geometry and indifferent routine. They didn’t know each other. That much was clear. No shared glances, no body language suggesting connection. Just two people waiting for the light to change, locked in that brief, suspended moment before movement resumes. But visually, they worked in tandem—her neon green jacket, his mustard ochre coat, both cutting…
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National Security
A danger for the National Security? This picture is nothing special, but for the fact that while I was taking it a security guard at the European Parliament tried to stop me on the “National Security” excuse, by claiming that photos were not allowed. Minding the lesson of “Stand your ground” I countered politely the requests of the guard, by telling him: – First: shooting in public spaces is perfectly legal, – Second: there where no “no-photos allowed” signs, – Third: “I am a lawyer and a journalist. I checked both EU and Belgian Law and find nothing that could prevent me to do what I am doing. Could you…
