
Raus
I took this photograph on a quiet street where the stillness of the scene clashed violently with the venom of the message sprayed across the wall. The phrase, written in crude, hurried strokes, is not a remnant from some distant, darker chapter of history but a fresh reminder that intolerance continues to thrive.
The frame is stripped of distraction: a textured wall, a single small window with broken panes, and the shadow of a streetlamp reaching across the surface. The composition leans heavily on the tension between emptiness and statement. Placing the graffiti off-centre allows the cracked window to act as a counterweight, both visually and metaphorically—two forms of damage, one inflicted on glass, the other on human dignity.
Technically, the image is clean and deliberate. The black-and-white treatment intensifies the grit of the wall and removes any comfort that colour might have brought. The light was harsh but low enough to cast deep, defined shadows, which I’ve allowed to creep into the frame to heighten the sense of intrusion. The exposure preserves the wall’s texture without losing the depth in the darker areas, giving the graffiti a tactile presence that seems almost to protrude from the plaster.
This photograph does not aim to aestheticise hate but to document it plainly, without filters or embellishment. Its starkness is intentional—sometimes, clarity is the only way to confront what we would rather look away from.

