Light falls through water in thin sheets, turning every bubble into dust. A metal form cuts across the frame—part blade, part shadow. Edges blur where motion meets resistance, yet the structure feels still, almost suspended in its own quiet pressure.
Shot in black and white, the image strips away the water’s colour, leaving only contrast. The propeller’s curve stands dark against the pale light behind it, while tiny grains float like static across the scene. The airless silence makes the steel seem heavier, but also strangely delicate.
After a moment, the mechanical form begins to look abstract. Lines shift, surfaces dissolve, and the machine becomes pattern—shape, rhythm, tone. It is not only about motion, but about the space motion leaves behind.
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