View allAll Photos Tagged VisualNarrative
Every seedling, every hint of knowing, every spark of inspiration begins as a wispy, little thing.
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a back portrait of my neighbor (digital) on the left and a misty morning in the park (film) on the right
I spent the better part of a day experimenting with different homemade filters for my 67mm diameter lenses, in this case, the Helios 40-2, and after a bit of post-processing, I am absolutely delighted with the glow and the bokeh! In one interview I read with photographer Susan Bernstein, who creates the most dreamy images on film from gear she made herself, Susan said that we should keep searching and trying new things until we find the gear that fits with our vision. This is getting pretty close. If I can find a way to merge this with my lensbaby, I will have arrived! I guess I know what my next project is going to be. :)
like a brushstroke vanishing in light, the silhouette floats into the glow — neither arriving nor leaving, just passing. shadows collapse behind her like closed pages, and only silence remains in the tunnel’s breathless geometry.
in the depths of the old city, a silhouette walks the tightrope between shadow and salvation. above, the sun explodes into geometry, marking a path that cuts through silence and stone.
in the hush of a rainy afternoon, two umbrellas form a quiet cathedral. beneath one, a man gazes sideways—his white hair tracing the years, his silence louder than the crowd beyond. in this brief frame, time bends inward, and all that matters is the shelter we find in each other, spoken or not.
a silent silhouette descends through stone and void, framed by the narrow breath of light at the end of the tunnel. the steps remember stories the figure may never tell. it is not arrival or departure—it’s a suspended return, caught between the hush of shadow and the whisper of what waits beyond.
a fleeting symmetry between two strangers separated by glass, each absorbed in a private ritual — one reaching for the sky, the other lost in the glow of her screen. between them floats a promise: crafted by hand & heart.
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a fleeting silhouette disappears into the glow of palma’s narrow streets. cobblestones glisten like memory, light bleeds into dark — a quiet rhythm in midday heat.
I am not Iban by heritage, but the longhouse has long been woven into the fabric of my childhood. I never lived in one, yet I grew up with its presence—playing in its corridors, watching life unfold beneath its towering stilts, and soaking in its warmth and rhythm during visits to nearby Dayak communities. For me, the longhouse was more than a structure; it was a living memory—a backdrop to laughter, discovery, and cultural richness.
Now, decades later, I return as a visitor—not just to a place, but to a feeling that never truly left me.
“The Iban Longhouse Soul” is a merged image, carefully crafted in Lightroom using two separate exposures. One captures me in stillness—contemplative, present—while the other is a motion-blurred echo of myself, walking through the very same space. This layering of images reflects the layers of time within me: the adult revisiting a place that once held the child, the present walking through the corridors of memory.
The blurred figure represents the soul in motion—a longing spirit caught between past and present, drawn to the familiarity of woven mats, vibrant buntings, and the hanging ornaments that still breathe tradition into the wooden beams of the Iban longhouse.
Though these longhouses are becoming part of history, fading into stories and photographs, they remain alive in the memories of those who once walked their length—even if only as children.
This photo is not just documentation; it is remembrance. It is my quiet tribute to the soul of the longhouse, and the soul it left in me.
fleeting moment on an escalator, where the city’s chaos mirrors its quiet routines. her reflection feels like a parallel reality, a fleeting reminder of the everyday narratives that unfold silently. shadows and light, focus and blur—all tell a story of movement and stillness.
he sat there, somewhere between dream and reality, his face tangled in a paper croissant. the hand reached out, perfect and polished, but it would never touch him. reflections play tricks on hungry minds. madrid, calle alcalá
there’s a quiet charm in the timelessness of the bouquinistes of paris. once guardians of books, they now curate nostalgia—posters from another era, magazines with forgotten headlines, and a sense of permanence in an ever-changing city. this man, with his steady gaze and relaxed posture, seems almost like a relic himself, embodying the calm resilience of his trade. fallen leaves frame the scene, as if autumn itself has paused to pay respect to a tradition slowly evolving, yet refusing to fade.
on a warm day in palma, amidst the bustling streets, thomas and i embarked on a photo walk, discovering the hidden narratives of the city. thomas, with his incredible eye for detail, paused by a weathered door, intrigued by what lay beyond. his camera captured the essence of curiosity as he peered through a mail slot, uncovering the stories concealed within the shadows. this moment, frozen in black and white, embodies the timeless allure of street photography—finding beauty and intrigue in the ordinary.
a beautiful haiku by my dear friend [https://www.flickr.com/photos/canonmao/]:
The wonders of curiosity
The keepers of discovery
A moment to treasure
captured during a quiet moment in palmaâs galeria velázquez, just a step away from the bustling mercat de lâolivar, this photo unveils a poetic intersection of reality and illusion. two workers, burdened yet graceful, carry a pane of glass that reflects not only the surrounding streetscape but also fragments of their own presence. the transparency of the glass merges their efforts with the cityscape, crafting a seamless visual dialogue between the physical and the ethereal. this fleeting moment, filled with symmetry and texture, tells a story of labor as artâwhere even the most mundane of tasks becomes a canvas for reflection and interpretation.
i sat with them, though not really. two men, basking in the spill of midday sun, locked in a timeless ritual—exchange. the crumbling stone of palma watched on, silent and stern. the beard punctuated the air with gestures, while the can of soda burned red like a thread through their banter. below, a painted shadow slipped between newsprint columns, anchoring them to the everyday. here, the sacred and the ordinary blend—words, walls, and a whisper of history folded into the folds of conversation.
she walks like punctuation, framed by sun and silence. in the briefest slice of light, her thoughts cast longer shadows than her steps.
an old man stands stark against the vibrant backdrop of an advertisement featuring a young woman in a crimson dress. his weathered features speak of many decades lived, a silent testament to resilience against the glossy idealisms of youth and beauty promoted behind him. the city breathes around them, these two figures, juxtaposed in their existence, creating a silent dialogue between what is worn and what is eternally youthful.
a fleeting moment through the window. shadows of the present pass by, blurred and faceless, while the statue stands still, timeless and unmoved. a silent witness to all who come and go. between stone and shadow, past and present merge. a quiet reflection on memory and time.
outside mercado barceló, the queue for a concert stretches down the street. when the rain begins to fall, the line softens â dissolving into quiet islands of friends like this one. cardboard, umbrellas, shared playlists and calm anticipation. they've made a home out of waiting.
late night in barcelona.
a narrow passage, a glimpse through a steamy kitchen window.
he looked up from the prep station,
hands still holding the roll of cling film,
half in motion – not startled, just paused.
we didn't speak.
but the look said: you can take the picture.
and so i did.
this one is for everyone who works while the rest of the city sleeps.
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in el arenal, where the sun-soaked streets echo with stories of leisure and carefree days, thomas blends into the vibrant scene, not with stealth, but with humor. his propeller hat, a playful nod to the fun-loving spirit of the place, spins lightly in the warm breeze, a beacon of cheerful irony among the more predictable beach attire. thomas, camera in hand, captures the pulse of the "deutsche meile," leaning in, crouching low, every movement a dance with the lens. here, amidst the blend of german voices and spanish charm, he’s not just a photographer; he’s part of the scenery, recording the day with a wink and a grin. the photo, no doubt, will reflect the same—joyful, alive, and just a bit mischievous.
An Iranian man sitting outside his store finishing his quick smoke. Location Deira spice market, Dubai
in a cobbled roman courtyard, a woman gazes down at her camera — absorbed, tender, unaware. beside her, a dog watches with open joy, tail quiet, eyes warm. it’s a portrait of shared attention: one drawn inward by the mechanics of vision, the other outward, content simply to be near. time slows. the light softens. something lasting passes between them — as silent as focus, as constant as trust.
No Festival Internacional de Jardins de Ponte de Lima, a gravilha serve de base para uma instalação artística onde vieiras, maioritariamente da espécie Pecten jacobaeus, evocam o Caminho de Santiago. Este elemento, historicamente associado à peregrinação e símbolo de viagem e descoberta, reforça a ligação cultural da região ao Caminho Português, que atravessa o concelho. A instalação, que integra o evento desde a sua criação em 2005, combina arte contemporânea com simbolismo religioso e cultural milenar, sublinhando o diálogo entre natureza e património. A utilização das conchas cria uma narrativa visual que remete para a herança cultural da região, integrando-se no conceito de jardim como espaço de reflexão e fruição estética.
At the Ponte de Lima International Garden Festival, gravel serves as the basis for an art installation in which scallops, mostly of the species Pecten jacobaeus, evoke the Way of St. James. This element, historically associated with pilgrimage and a symbol of travel and discovery, reinforces the region's cultural connection to the Portuguese Way, which runs through the municipality. The installation, which has been part of the event since its creation in 2005, combines contemporary art with ancient religious and cultural symbolism, underlining the dialogue between nature and heritage. The use of shells creates a visual narrative that refers to the region's cultural heritage, integrating it into the concept of the garden as a space for reflection and aesthetic enjoyment.
this image captures a bouquet of dried flowers fastened to an old bicycle, its faded elegance contrasting with the rusted metal and worn tire. the vibrant purples and yellows of the flowers stand out against the muted background, telling a story of beauty persisting amidst decay. the soft focus and delicate lighting enhance the sense of nostalgia and timeless charm, making this a poignant representation of enduring grace in unexpected places.
"Step into the shadows and let your gaze be drawn to the silent conversation unfolding in this photograph. Notice how the silhouette, shrouded in mystery, stands at the threshold of light and darkness, inviting you to ponder the unseen. The mural, a watchful face from another time, peers through the architectural maze, urging you to connect past with present. As you look closer, you'll find that this image is more than a simple capture—it's a dialogue between form, history, and the fleeting moments of our own existence. Allow yourself to linger in this space, where every shadow and light speaks to the depth of the human experience."
There’s a moment between restraint and release—when you’re not hiding, but holding. This is that moment.
Roll film week
from my series "Where Love Resides"
Bronica sqa, bronica zenzanon s 150mm f/3.5, Ilford Delta 400, developed in Rodinal (1+50 for 12 mins)
behind glass and silence, a mannequin in gold gazes into nothingness — yet within her, the silhouette of a passerby flickers like a memory she cannot name. something stirs, as if her chest remembers what her body never lived.
Every element seems to lean into that hush—no motion, no noise, just presence. It’s not dramatic, but it lingers. A quiet study in contrast, mood, and restraint. This scene doesn’t shout—it waits for you to listen.
Il mondo scivolava via dietro di lui, un’impronta dopo l’altra.
Il freddo non lo mordeva più: era diventato parte del paesaggio, come il silenzio.
Ad ogni passo, la neve cancellava il precedente, come se anche lei volesse dimenticarlo.
Nessuna direzione. Nessuna promessa. Solo quella traccia sottile davanti a lui.
Incisa da altri piedi, forse.
O forse era stato lui, in un altro tempo, a lasciarla.
Non c’erano più strade.
Solo bianco, come un foglio ancora da scrivere.
E lui non aveva penna. Ma continuava a camminare.
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The world slipped away behind him, one footprint at a time.
The cold no longer bit — it had become part of the landscape, like silence.
With each step, the snow erased the last, as if it too wished to forget him.
No direction. No promise. Only that faint trace ahead.
Etched by other feet, perhaps.
Or maybe by him, in another time.
There were no more roads.
Only white — like a page still unwritten.
And he had no pen. But he kept walking.
Non ricordava più da quanto tempo fissava l’orizzonte.
Forse un’ora. Forse dieci anni.
Da quando i segnali si erano spenti e le strade avevano smesso di condurre da qualche parte, il tempo aveva smesso di avere un senso.
Alle sue spalle: rovine e silenzi.
Davanti, un mare torvo, senza navi.
Non c’erano più porti, né rotte. Solo la sensazione che qualcosa, là fuori, lo stesse cercando.
O forse lo aveva già trovato.
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He couldn’t remember how long he’d been staring at the horizon.
An hour, maybe. Or ten years.
Ever since the signals had gone dark and roads had stopped leading anywhere,
time had stopped making sense.
Behind him: ruins and silence.
Ahead, a sullen sea, empty of ships.
There were no more harbors, no more routes.
Only the feeling that something, out there,
was looking for him.
Or maybe it had already found him.
This monumental concrete structure is the only road connection between the Croatian mainland and the island of Pag, located in the northern Adriatic. Pag is renowned for its harsh, rocky terrain, strong winds, and striking, almost otherworldly landscapes. With virtually no vegetation across large stretches of the island, many say it resembles the surface of Mars.
One of Pag’s most scenic routes is the Life on Mars hiking trail, which winds through these barren and beautiful environments. The island is also home to a curious natural mystery known as the Pag Triangle — a geometric, triangle-shaped formation discovered in a remote rocky area. Its unusual shape has sparked speculation, with some believing it could mark the landing site of an alien craft. To this day, its origin remains unexplained.
Explore more about Pag Island online — its landscapes, legends, and the surreal beauty that makes it feel like a world of its own.
In the heart of Taito City, Tokyo, there was a tunnel, a forgotten passageway that had once connected two distant parts of the city. Its walls were adorned with the scars of time, and its arches echoed with the whispers of forgotten memories.
One day, a lone traveler stumbled upon this hidden sanctuary. The darkness enveloped him, and the only sound was the soft drip of water from the ceiling. As he ventured deeper into the tunnel, he felt a sense of unease, a premonition of something unknown.
In this captivating monochrome photograph, a silhouetted figure stands poised in shadow, casting a watchful gaze towards the stark white wall. On that wall, the elongated shadow of another figure stretches out, their hand raised in a gesture that suggests a conversation without words. The diagonal beam of light cuts across the scene, dividing darkness and illumination, creating a powerful contrast between the known and the unknown. The photograph invites viewers into a world of quiet contemplation, where light and shadow playfully merge to tell a story of unseen interactions and fleeting moments. Through its minimalist composition, the image captures the essence of urban solitude, where every shadow has a story and every silhouette, a soul.