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Somewhere in Japan
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Noon on the Beach
this image hinges on simplicity and distortion. The sun was directly overhead, leaving the shadow of the pole as a near-perfect sundial, slicing the centre of the frame from bottom to vanishing point. That shadow was the whole reason to shoot: absolute verticality rendered into graphic contrast on a near-featureless plane. The lens dictates the structure. At 16mm, lines bow. The horizon curves. Perspective exaggerates. I leaned into it—there’s no attempt to correct distortion in post. The intention was not to imitate a rectilinear frame, but to emphasise space as abstraction. The beach becomes a sphere, the sky a ceiling, and the tiny trace of buildings at the perimeter only…
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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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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…
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Stairway to Nothing
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A Silohuette on the Bridge
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Wrecked Hull
There’s something oddly compelling about the scars of a boat out of the water. Without the softening shimmer of the sea, the hull stands exposed — every scratch, blister, and patch telling a story of its time afloat. When I came across this one, propped up on its stand, the colours struck me first: the chalky off-white giving way to the battered turquoise, with angry flashes of red oxide bleeding through like old wounds reopening. I framed it tight, keeping the top and bottom of the hull cropped to remove any distraction from the shapes and textures. The horizontal divide of colour became my anchor, with the wooden prop jutting…
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Pipeline
While walking past this building, I noticed how the conduit layout on the wall resembled a kind of industrial score—lines and pauses, rhythms and patterns. Not an installation, not a sculpture, just a highly structured solution to a very practical problem. The moment I saw it, I knew the camera had to do nothing more than document with precision. The photograph is as straightforward as its subject. I shot it head-on to avoid distortion, aligning the sensor with the wall surface as squarely as possible. The frame is divided into two visual planes—the dense column of vertical and diagonal pipes on the left, and the open, linear turns on the…
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In-Eye
Photography has a curious way of leading the mind into patterns — an instinctive search for meaning, even when none exists. We are hardwired to interpret shapes and juxtapositions, to anthropomorphise objects, to find faces in clouds and stories in shadows. This image is one such case: a seemingly simple shot of a ship seen through a weathered window, yet the geometry conspires to suggest something far more figurative. Here, the diamond-shaped porthole becomes an eyelid, its corroded frame the brow, and beyond it, the bow of the ship forms an unmistakable iris and pupil. It’s a quiet trick of composition — one I noticed only after the fact —…
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Ni
I photographed this wall for its simplicity: two scraps of weathered wood fixed to rough concrete, nothing more. Yet in their placement they formed a minimal composition, two marks on a textured surface that immediately reminded me of the Japanese character for “two” (二). It was not intended, but the resonance was unavoidable once I saw it through the viewfinder. The surface itself does much of the work. The granular, uneven wall contrasts sharply with the grain of the old planks. The top piece, broader and darker, bears the scars of age—splits, nails, faint stains. The lower fragment, smaller and lighter, almost echoes it, as if the two are in…
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Blob
I definitely have a thing for fountains…
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Stantsted Lounge’s Chairs
I took this photo just after the final boarding call echoed through the terminal, the kind of stillness that only follows a rush. The lounge was cleared in minutes — all urgency gone, replaced by silence. The chairs, once wrapped in the inertia of travel, now stood like architectural punctuation against the faux-wood paneling, waiting for the next wave of restless travellers. I framed the shot at a low angle, intentionally compressing the line of stools to push a rhythm into the scene — one repetition after the other. It’s a simple structure, but the legs of the stools, criss-crossing over each other, create a mesh of shadow geometry on…
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London Panning
Pure Luck. Sometimes happens.
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VueScan and the missed Bits-per-pixel
Ed Hamrick’s VueScan is a great software that supports almost every scanner available, including out-of-production film scanner. Sometimes its interface behave in non documented way as in the case of the Bits-per-pixel option in the Input tab that disappears once the Infrared Clean option is enabled in the Filter tab. I wasn’t able to figure out the relationship between the two settings until Ed Hamrick himself kindly answered (lightfast, I would say) to my question. Kudos to him for that, but it would be nice to have this Infrared clean-Bits per pixel issue mentioned in the user guide :)
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The Empty Stage
There’s a stillness in this image that’s almost unnerving — the kind of stillness you find after the audience has gone home, the performers have left, and the sea has reclaimed the soundscape. The photograph presents what looks like a small, weather-worn platform facing the horizon, its rusted surface marked by time and salt. In front of it, the patterned paving stones draw the eye directly forward, as though you’re being ushered to take your place before the infinite backdrop of sky and water. Compositionally, the image is disciplined and symmetrical without feeling sterile. The vanishing lines of the pavement and the horizon are set dead-centre, pulling you into the…
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A Splash of Colour
This shot came out of instinct more than planning. A night downpour had just passed, the roads were still gleaming, and I caught the moment a car ploughed through a puddle like it was carving a wound into the street. The camera barely kept up. What emerged isn’t a photograph of a car, or a street, or even rain—but the collision of light, speed, and water at their most chaotic. From a technical standpoint, I wouldn’t call this “clean.” The headlights are blown to pure white. The motion blur—particularly on the car—is complete, to the point of abstraction. Detail is secondary, sacrificed to velocity. But for once, precision wasn’t the…
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An illuminated escape path will help you to reach the exits …
After a night of steady rain, the city had fallen into that reflective state that only wet streets can produce. The pavement was still slick, holding onto the water as though unwilling to let it drain away. Streetlights scattered across the surface, each one elongating into streaks and patches of colour, turning an ordinary walkway into a shifting canvas of muted golds and greens. What caught my eye first was the faint line of embedded lights tracing a curve through the centre of the frame. They weren’t bright enough to dominate the scene, but they did give it direction—a subtle guide through the reflections and irregular textures. The rain had…
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The Rise of the Mutant Spiders?
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Out of Focus, again
Again a non intended, out-of-focus image – missed shot, in other words. Nevertheless I like the “visual” effect.
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Lightblade
I took this shot late in the evening, drawn by the improbable geometry cast by a wall sconce in an otherwise nondescript alley. The light didn’t just illuminate—it carved. A fan of brilliance stretching vertically in both directions, like a double-edged blade suspended in air. No tricks. No editing. Just a camera, a wall, and the physics of reflection doing the work. The symmetry is what compelled me. It’s never perfect, but in this frame it came close enough to earn the name Lightblade. The triangular base descending downward balances a more complex, diffused spray upward, where the beam fragments slightly—revealing the uneven surface of the wall and subtle flaws…
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Red Tears
I’ve always been drawn to the small, almost accidental pieces of abstraction that appear in everyday life. This photograph began as nothing more than a patch of painted wall, but the way the red pigment bled into the pale blue beneath was too evocative to ignore. The streaks felt like gravity-made brushstrokes, each drip tracing its own irregular path — a literal record of time and viscosity — and yet, when taken in as a whole, they resembled something far more visceral. Hence the title. Compositionally, I chose a tight, horizontal crop to emphasise the division of the frame into two bold blocks of colour. The hard upper edge of…
