View allAll Photos Tagged moodytoning
A striking close-up of a performer in a detailed steampunk-inspired monster costume at the Guggenmusik Festival. Rusted metal elements, intricate textures, and an expressive face bring this character to life in the vibrant atmosphere of the event.
Only fans and friends. ⬇️⬇️⬇️
at first glance, it’s just a person having coffee. but the symmetry, the silence, and the reflection pull you deeper. there’s a conversation here — between self and shadow, presence and absence. the space is sharp and geometric, but the mood is soft. the glowing backlight outlines the figure like an afterthought of light. and the word glowing above it all — disfruta — feels like a whisper of irony. what we see is just half of what is. the rest happens quietly, within.
In a city that never slows down, two figures walk with purpose — untouched by the rush, unfazed by the crowd.
A fleeting moment of rhythm and restraint, framed in asphalt and anonymity.
Shot in Tokyo. Color graded for a moody, cinematic feel
sometimes you don’t see the whole story. just a fragment, a movement frozen in time. a black shoe on a white stripe, a shadow stretching forward, the imprint of a step left behind. nothing more. but maybe enough.
he leans against the wall, half in light, half in shadow. his face lit just enough to show the sharp lines of thought. the phone in his hand, fingers moving, but his mind seems elsewhere. behind him, a torn advertisement—grinning faces frozen in time, their happiness untouched by the street. his shadow stretches across the wall, almost detached, like another version of himself standing still while he drifts. the pavement, the rough wall, the soft light breaking through the city’s geometry. palma holds moments like this in its corners, waiting to be noticed.
A heavy summer rain rolls through the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, cloaking the ridgelines in mist and cloud. The deep greens of the forest canopy glisten with moisture, while low clouds obscure the peaks, creating a moody, layered landscape rich with atmosphere and natural drama.
i was teaching a one-on-one street photography workshop. my student’s camera battery gave up. i handed him my leica q3. my fuji x-t5 was still with me, the 50mm f1 a quiet beast in low light. he disappeared into the paseo del borne, searching for moments.
i saw a street singer setting up his mic. beside him, a girl on a bench. i asked if i could take her portrait. she nodded, then started posing—effortless, unexpected. the light was bad. i pointed to a storefront, told her it would work like a softbox. she followed. then she gave me this. hope you like it.
A quiet lakeside scene where autumn’s golden hues embrace the landscape. The summer boat now rests upside down, waiting for another season to begin. The calm water mirrors the stillness of nature preparing for winter.
Fun fact:
Deciduous trees like oak and birch change color because chlorophyll breaks down as temperatures drop, revealing yellow, orange, and red pigments that were always hidden within the leaves.
a quiet pause beneath the steel cathedral of motion—her silhouette split, doubled by glass, waiting in the rhythm of a station that never truly stops breathing
Haven’t used my Canon camera in awhile with my favorite 100mm macro lens. So, I broke it out to use on some Snapdragons that came back up from last year.
she stood outside the barbershop, cigarette in hand, scrolling through her phone. the man in the poster stared blankly, detached, larger than life but lifeless. i lifted the camera, and she caught me. her eyes narrowed, sharp and unamused. i pressed the shutter anyway. for a second, it felt like she might curse me, but instead, she laughed. i showed her the photo, and her disapproval melted into humor. "good shot," she said, taking another drag. the poster man said nothing.
I came here to paint, but the silence said more than the brush ever could.
In real life, I’ve been carrying a weight I can’t explain.
So I sit still, pretending that mixing colors might fix something inside me.
Maybe it won't. But for a moment, I get to feel quiet
and that’s enough.
A long, weathered wooden pier stretches into the calm waters of Sortlandssundet, its decaying planks and moss-covered railings telling stories of time and tide. Captured from Ånstadsjøen, the view looks eastward across the sound toward Kringleveien, where snow-capped mountains rise beneath a heavy, clouded sky. The stillness of the water mirrors the quiet grandeur of the landscape, evoking a sense of solitude and timelessness in Norway’s northern fjordlands.