This must be my most random collection yet. None of these subjects belong to the same family, but they shake hands in monochrome. What ties them together isn’t what they are, it’s how they feel: patterns, shapes, and textures speaking in the same language.
In the first frame, cracked paint settles into asphalt like dried riverbeds. The contrast is unapologetic, white fractures against dark grit, so I leaned in and let black and white do what it does best: carve the edges sharp and let the shadows hum.
Beside it, a sheet of perforated metal turns into a field of moons. Circles repeat until they stop being holes and start being rhythm. I love how light slips in and out of them, making tiny echoes of highlight and depth.
The third image is a quiet one: a flat plate with a tiny label and a single screw. Minimal, almost sterile, yet the small imperfections, brush marks, dents, specks, remind me that even “plain” surfaces have biographies. In monochrome, those stories read clearer.
The last frame is a ghost of a bike symbol, scuffed by weather and time. A leaf lounges in the corner like punctuation. It’s a picture of what remains after movement, traces, hints, memory.
Individually, they’re strangers. Together, they become a set about order and erosion, repetition and residue. Lines, holes, labels, ghosts. The city writes in these marks, and black and white lets me read it without distraction. I didn’t plan the sequence, but while editing I noticed how circles answer lines, how smooth surfaces calm the rough, how labels anchor what would otherwise drift. That quiet connection is the reason I shoot: to gather unrelated things and find the thread between them.
”To see in color is a delight for the eye, but to see in black and white is delight for the soul.”
~ Andri Cauldwell
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@funtraveller
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