The heat has been lingering too long. I’ve never been one for it, especially not the kind we’ve had here lately; thick and airless. It forces me to time my walks carefully, waiting for the clouds to soften the light.
Still, the sun has a way of making even the familiar seem different. It caught me today, its light pulling my eyes toward things I usually pass by without a second glance.
Some ivy creeping over a wall. I couldn’t tell if it was growing or dying. It looked halfway between both.
And then, through a fence, I spotted an old car tucked away in a scrapyard. Overgrown, forgotten. But in the sunlight, it looked almost beautiful. The way the leaves had wrapped around its frame, the way the metal glimmered just enough to catch the eye. I stood there a while, watching it, before raising the camera, or in the case of this week, my phone.
Lately, I’ve been stopping more. Walking slower. Trying to be more present, whatever that means. Watching, observing, waiting for something to speak back.
Earlier this week, I had a conversation with author and photography editor Mark Holborn about making work for yourself. He spoke about how your perspective, your particular way of seeing, is what sets you apart. That’s the difference between chasing trends and making something lasting.
I’ve been thinking about that a lot as I walk. About the difference between seeing something and really noticing it.
This week, I noticed an abandoned car shining in the sun. And the way light danced through seemingly ordinary scenes.
– Kalum
These images were all taken throughout the week – a kind of visual sketchbook, if you will. Small observations and fragments gathered along the way.
I’ll share more from my longer projects in time, but for now, these are simply sketches from the week.