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The Crew’s Rest
Before the music, before the lights, before the roar of the crowd, there is this: scaffolding, cables, flight cases, and the quiet focus of the crew. Two men sit within the skeleton of a stage in progress. One leans back on a low platform, his body turned away, hands resting loosely on his knees. The other, crouched cross-legged on the metal grid, holds a fire extinguisher’s pole with a faint, amused expression, as if catching the photographer in an unguarded moment. Around them, the geometry of the scaffolding frames the scene, a lattice of steel that will soon hold the machinery of spectacle. The city moves on in the background—shops…
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An Attentive Listener
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The Lost Church
There’s a peculiar stillness to places abandoned to time. This old church, half-standing and half-claimed by nature, radiates a kind of quiet defiance. The arches remain intact, elegant in their geometry, even as the roof has long given way and the nave has filled with weeds and tall grasses. When I composed the frame, I wanted to place the arches as the structural rhythm that guides the eye. The diagonal sweep from the lower right to the upper left pulls you naturally towards the surviving façade. The wild vegetation softens the geometry, adding texture and colour — greens, yellows, and browns — that contrast with the pale limestone. Technically, the…
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Once A God
Poseidon emerges from above the sign like a relic of popular imagination—muscular torso, crown, and trident, his authority now reduced to advertising. Below him, the oversized fish and bold lettering spell out his name with certainty, though the plaster figure betrays wear, paint faded and surfaces weathered. It is not divinity but decoration, a reminder of how myth survives in commerce. Composition stresses perspective: the low angle forces the viewer to look up, as if paying homage, yet the clean blue sky strips the scene of grandeur, leaving only figure and name. The fish’s body stretches across the lower frame as a pedestal, while Poseidon’s arms, frozen mid-gesture, create diagonals…
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Bent
Shot with a Nikon F3 and a 16mm fisheye, this isn’t your typical curved-sky, skateboard-in-midair kind of photo. Instead of pushing the distortion to the front of the image, I let it sneak in at the edges—just enough to bend the rules. The subject is ordinary: a coastal bridge, a pedestrian path, the usual lampposts lining a curve. But the lens pulls the whole scene inward, gives it weight and sweep, turns a flat space into something that stretches, leans, folds in on itself. I like using fisheye glass this way—not as a gimmick, not for laughs, but to see how geometry shifts when you force perspective without centring it.…
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Just Another Times Square View
Memories from the past…
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A Dragon Trainer?
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Mulberry Street, When Benito II Was Still There…
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Line Of Fire
This image was taken inside a shooting range, but I wasn’t there to document firearms. I was drawn to geometry, symmetry, and control. What struck me was the sheer order of the space. Every line — from the foam cladding to the shooting lanes — channels the viewer’s gaze forward. You don’t look at this picture. You’re funnelled through it. Technically, the space presented a challenge: low, mixed lighting and reflective surfaces. I shot handheld, wide open, leaning into the natural light spread to keep shadows soft and detail intact. The overhead panels, designed for acoustic insulation, created an unusual texture that became an integral compositional element. The ceiling almost…
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Mind The Gap!
I made this photograph standing almost flush with the wall, pointing the lens straight up into the thin slice of sky framed by stone and metal. The subject is not the building itself but the uneasy conversation between its decaying ornamentation and the open void above. The fractured balcony edges lean toward each other without touching, creating a tension in the composition that pulls the viewer’s eye toward the bright gap. From a compositional standpoint, the choice of perspective is both a strength and a limitation. The severe upward angle forces strong converging lines, which add a sense of depth and slight unease. However, the proximity of the elements means…
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Arriba El Mexico!
I took this photograph from the passenger seat of a cab, during that suspended moment when traffic stalls and the city becomes a collage of reflections and colour. The small felt figure hanging from the mirror caught my attention first—bright, slightly absurd, and placed without irony. The tiny sombrero, the stitched flag, the green felt body: a souvenir turned mascot, living in the blurred space between décor and identity. What interested me was how this small object commanded the frame. The background—city lights, signage, fragments of buildings—exists only as colour fields and soft shapes. The mirror picks up hints of the driver, the interior, and the street behind us, but…
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Just A Bird
The small sparrow resting on the green stalk caught my attention not because it was rare, exotic, or particularly dramatic, but because it was simply there. A fleeting pause in the ordinary rhythm of the day. The late afternoon light wrapped both bird and plants in a warm, almost golden atmosphere, softening the edges and bringing out the textures of the leaves and flowers. From a technical standpoint, the composition is clean yet unforced. The sparrow is positioned off-centre, allowing the surrounding vegetation to balance the frame. The diagonals created by the leaves and the blurred background help guide the eye naturally towards the bird without resorting to obvious tricks.…
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Just A Cat
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The Spanish Sense of Flesh – 2
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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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The Spanish Sense of Flesh – 1
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The Unconvinced Listener
This was one of those shots where the scene composed itself. I didn’t need to move much—just recognise and release the shutter. What drew me in was the geometry of the interaction: a makeshift stage, oversaturated lighting washing the performers in synthetic blue, and in the foreground, a single man caught mid-gesture, possibly clapping, possibly holding a phone, or perhaps neither—his posture uncertain and unaligned with the music unfolding metres ahead. The band, framed neatly under the overhang of a modern tram stop, seems to exist in its own world, driven by rhythm, sequins, and stage light bravado. They’re working hard. But the man in the foreground? He’s not buying…
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Waiting For The Elections
Shot on a Leica M9 with a Zeiss Biogon 35mm f/2.8, this image is more about suspension than action. The frame holds a waiting posture — literally and metaphorically. No speeches, no slogans, just the inertia of democratic process taking over the political machinery. I wanted to convey stillness without silence. The Biogon’s rendering gave me that microcontrast and edge clarity I rely on when details matter more than gestures. The M9 sensor — as unpredictable as it can be in mixed light — held together the tonal values well here, especially in the midtones. Shadow detail was secondary; this wasn’t about hiding or revealing, but about the unresolved pause…
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Though Choice
It doesn’t take much to make your day happy.
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Zebra Crossing, Again…
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No, You Don’t Need To Change Your Glasses
This was intentional. No missed autofocus, no technical glitch. I set the lens manually, focused nowhere, and waited for someone to walk into the blur. He did—carrying two bright yellow bags, dressed sharply but casually, perfectly unremarkable in the sharp world we expect from street photography. The concept was simple: remove clarity and see what remains. What I found was structure. Colour. Gait. Gesture. A kind of abstraction that doesn’t erase the human, just detaches it from identification. No face. No detail. But still a presence. Technically, the image defies critique by design. It isn’t sharp—at all. The highlights push into soft bloom, the street dissolves into haze, and the…
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Lost In Barcelona’s Beauty
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The Lost Lock
The photograph is focused on the weathered surface of a wooden door, its grain worn deep by time and use. At the centre sits a latch, secured by a small brass pin, surrounded by the scars of previous fittings. Above it, oversized keyholes mark the door’s history of repairs and replacements, each shadow stretching long across the wood in the midday light. Technically, the image is about texture and shadow. The exposure favours the roughness of the timber, rendering every fissure and nail hole in sharp detail. The sunlight is strong, but instead of washing out the surface, it enhances contrast, pulling the metallic coldness of the lock against the…
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Thirsty
