Distraction

I’ve always been drawn to images that speak to the times we live in, and this one, captured in the dim glow of a theatre, says far more than it initially lets on. Rows of seats are filled, the stage lights cast their magenta hue across the scene, and yet the true illumination comes not from the performance, but from the tiny, cold rectangles in people’s hands. The glow of smartphone screens slices through the warm darkness, each one a small, personal theatre pulling its audience away from the real one.

From a compositional standpoint, I opted for a diagonal perspective, allowing the rows of red seats to create a rhythm that guides the viewer’s gaze from the lower left to the upper right. The scattering of lit screens breaks that rhythm just enough to make the eye linger on individual faces — or, more often, on the devices obscuring them.

Technically, the low-light conditions demanded a compromise. The exposure leans towards preserving the ambience, accepting a degree of motion blur in raised hands and shifting heads. That softness is almost fitting — the blur mirrors the act of looking away, of being present but not engaged. The magenta stage light adds a surreal wash to the scene, though it challenges colour balance and risks overwhelming the subtler tones in the crowd.

This isn’t a condemnation; I’ve been guilty of the same reflex — reaching for the phone in moments meant to be experienced unfiltered. But the photograph, for me, becomes a quiet reminder of how often we trade immediacy for mediation, letting our screens frame life even when life is unfolding right in front of us.