Spectral Lotus

Shot handheld with a Leica M9, this image was less about the car and more about the apparition it became under sodium vapour light. The Lotus, unpainted and unadorned, swept through the urban silence like a silver ghost. I wasn’t expecting it—no barricades, no marshals—just a curve, a rumble, and that brutalist sculpture on wheels appearing from nowhere.

What caught my eye first wasn’t the vehicle itself but the way it reflected the city’s tired lights. The aluminium skin bounced back hues from old shop signs and streetlamps, turning the body into a temporary canvas of moving golds and yellows. The reflections aren’t clean. Nor are they meant to be. They fracture and warp around the car’s curves, recording not just light, but history.

Technically, this was an exercise in tension. Manual zone focus, wide aperture, and enough shutter drag to render movement without losing the subject. The decision to pan came instinctively. I tracked the car just enough to hold the front tyre sharp while letting the tail blur into motion. No tripod, no second take.

The Leica M9 isn’t the ideal tool for low light and movement. ISO performance is modest, to say the least. But that constraint worked here. The noise in the shadows lent the image a texture reminiscent of a scanned film negative. Slightly erratic, a bit raw, but alive.

Spectators hover in the blurred background like figures in a dream. Their presence matters, not for detail, but scale. They tell you this is a real street, not a closed circuit. A place where the car doesn’t belong—but does, if only for a second.

This wasn’t a motorsport photograph. It was a ghost story, and the Lotus was just passing through.