Close up of an Ethnic Chessboard

Photographing chess pieces is a common cliché, yet this set refused to be generic. Sculpted with raw, almost brutalist character, these figures aren’t crafted for elegance—they’re carved for presence. The asymmetries, the subtle flaws in the stone, and the ambiguous expressions on the pieces imbue the scene with tension. One might call them grotesque, but I prefer “unapologetically tactile.”

I chose a narrow depth of field, letting only a sliver of the board fall into focus. It wasn’t just an aesthetic decision. With these pieces, clarity carries weight; it turns the observer into a participant. The fallen pieces strewn at the bottom edge complete the silent narrative of strategy and consequence. I didn’t touch the board—this was how I found it, mid-battle, or post-defeat.

Exposure is balanced for the centre mass of stone. I let the highlights burn slightly on the gloss of the white bishop—acceptable loss to protect shadow detail in the figures behind. Colour was kept close to the natural stone; I didn’t want to over-process what already feels ancient.

This isn’t a romanticised homage to chess. It’s a quiet confrontation with heritage, form, and the brutal clarity of loss.