Nature holds scale and subtlety at once – open distance and small, exact details. In black-and-white, light, weather, and structure shape how a place reads: edges come forward, textures settle, and a scene becomes legible as form and rhythm.

I don’t chase the perfect view; images are allowed to surface. Walking becomes the method – watching how light skims water or stone, how mist edits a forest, how time and weather redraw the same line. It’s less about collecting pictures than about being present long enough for the picture to arrive.

The work reflects that pace. Patterns in rock and water, a quiet stand of trees, a horizon held by shifting clouds – each frame is pared back, composed to breathe, and meant to invite slow looking. Minimal in means, attentive in craft: clarity without noise.