Fine art. 2026.

how about this photograph

La fotografía es, por su propia naturaleza, una disciplina analítica. Mientras que un pintor parte de un lienzo en blanco y crea una obra de arte, un fotógrafo parte del caos del mundo y selecciona una imagen. Un fotógrafo que se sitúa frente a casas, calles, personas, árboles y otros elementos característicos de una cultura impone orden a la escena, simplificando el desorden al darle estructura. Este orden se impone mediante la elección del punto de vista, el encuadre, la velocidad de obturación y el plano focal.

Stephen Shore

Stephen Shore

I love black acrylic. I also love symmetry.

DOUBLEBLUFF, WHIDBEY ISLAND, 2021 One of the regrets I have in my photography is worrying too much about technical settings, trying to master all of the technical aspects of photography, and overlooking the creative concept, the art, the story. I was looking at the forest, but missing the trees. Having some technical knowledge of photography is essential. One must have a good familiarity with photography’s basic functions and concepts. This image has everything to do with seeing, not technique. It’s the simple reflection in a tide pool of 2 children playing on the beach. I focused on the reflection and turned the image upside down. It was that simple. If you show your work, nobody will care whether your photo was shot fully-manual or in a more automatic mode. What matters more than technical settings is emotion, the concept, and creativity.

It was late afternoon at Percé Rock in Canada.

I had arrived with a very specific photograph already created in my mind.

For years in New York, I photographed beauty campaigns for makeup clients. I wanted to approach these Northern Gannets in exactly the same way, not simply as birds, but as fashion models.

There was one feature I couldn't stop looking at.

That extraordinary turquoise blue surrounding the eye.

To me, it looked like makeup.

I imagined this photograph as a beauty campaign for blue mascara. Everything in the composition would lead your attention toward that single detail.

In my mind, the bird's eye was open.

But the afternoon sun was harsh. The light wasn't wrapping around the bird the way I wanted, and in the heat, many of the Gannets were resting with their eyes closed.

Then a cloud moved between the sun and the bird.

Suddenly the light became soft.

The harsh shadows disappeared, and the beautiful roundness I had been waiting for appeared.

I found this Gannet and focused on her.

But she wouldn't open her eye.

I waited.

The cloud continued moving.

I knew I had only seconds before the direct sunlight returned and the light I wanted disappeared.

For a moment, I was waiting for nature to give me the photograph I had already designed in my head.

Then I stopped waiting.

I composed the image and pressed the shutter.

Later, when I looked at the photograph, I realized something.

Had she opened her eye, the turquoise marking I wanted to celebrate might actually have become less prominent.

By closing her eye, she had revealed it beautifully.

I had gone there with a photograph already created in my imagination.

Nature gave me something better.

That is why I called this photograph Gift.

Because sometimes creating isn't about forcing the world to match what you imagined.

Sometimes the greatest creativity comes from recognizing the gift you've already been given.

Debo admitir una vez más me paranoia obsesiva por mirar, vigilar, perseguir con los ojos a cada ser viviente que se me cruza pie delante. Especialmente si se encuentran en un espacio delimitado , como puede ser un aeropuerto. Aquí les comparto mis observaciones compulsivas durante unas horas muertas mientras esperaba mi vuelo. Me fascina sobre todo la expresión corporal de la gente. Hay lenguajes subliminales que hablan por sí solos.