Red Cross

Some photographs are taken instinctively, almost without the usual premeditation that guides my framing. This one emerged from a walk at night, when the glow of an illuminated red circle caught my eye—a signal cutting through the darkness. At its centre, a cross of tiny LEDs blinked rhythmically, part medical icon, part abstract light sculpture.

Framing it was straightforward: the dark surroundings worked like a natural vignette, pushing the viewer’s gaze towards the centre. I positioned myself to keep the circle symmetrical within the frame, knowing that the composition’s strength would lie in its stark simplicity.

Technically, this was a delicate balance. Shooting at night with such a bright light source risks either blowing out the highlights or letting the shadows drown entirely. I chose to underexpose slightly, preserving the textures inside the circle—the mottled surface that looked like a cross between a planet’s surface and a backlit canvas. The noise in the shadows is noticeable if you look closely, but in this case, it adds a certain grittiness, keeping the image from feeling too clinically perfect.

What I like most is the ambiguity. The image hints at function—a medical sign, a warning light—but also drifts into abstraction. The red dominates, but the mind starts to wander: is it Mars? Is it a signal? Or is it just the reflection of urban light playing tricks in the night?

It’s a reminder that sometimes, the most striking images are born from the simplest encounters—a circle of red in the dark, nothing more, nothing less.