Labcoats In A Moment Of Rest

The lab was quiet. Machines still hummed, but the people had stepped away—lunch maybe, or a seminar down the corridor. I found this row of coats, slack and ghostlike, lined up with the kind of accidental symmetry that only happens when no one’s trying. Each hook bore a name: Stef, Erica, Anna, Sara, Giorgio… markers of identity in a place that prizes protocol over personality.

Shot on a Canon 5D Mark II with the 24–105, the image leaned into its neutrality. No attempt to stylise the whites or fake a sterile glow. The coats were wrinkled, some slightly yellowed at the seams. I kept the exposure honest—highlights restrained just below clipping, shadows left shallow. The lighting was fluorescent, slightly cold, exactly as it should be.

Framing was tight, symmetrical, and intentionally flat. No angle, no vanishing point—just a head-on view that treats labwear like portraiture. The personalities are missing, but their outlines remain in cotton. You can almost see the gesture of the person who last hung each one—some neatly folded, others rushed and off-centre.

This isn’t about science as spectacle. It’s about routine. These coats have seen pipettes, centrifuges, failed assays, breakthroughs. But here, they wait. And in that pause, the image finds its stillness.