Four Frames of Nature
Last night’s walk felt like a small confirmation: my style—both in shooting and presenting—is starting to settle in. I’ve been leaning into a rhythm that works for me: take at least four frames, then curate four keepers into a single cover that looks like a window. Instead of a view outside, each pane becomes its own little world.
This set is all about leaves and the quiet drama they carry in black and white. I love how the fern fronds turn into repeating waves, how the veins of a broad leaf read like a hand-drawn map, and how a single curve can guide the eye from corner to corner. With the night light low, I pushed the highlights and let the shadows sit deeper, so texture could do the storytelling—edges glow, midtones breathe, and the darker pockets pull you in. Stripping the color away keeps the focus on form, contrast, and the small details that usually get missed.
The “window frame” layout has been fun because it feels like a mini-gallery: four related thoughts, one clean presentation. It also keeps my walks intentional; I’m not chasing dozens of images, just a handful that speak to each other when placed side by side.
Nature remains one of my favorite subjects—simple, honest, and always patient. But I’m hoping this weekend to explore beyond the leaves. Maybe some street scenes or a bit of architecture, where lines, light, and rhythm can play the same role texture does in these frames. I’m curious to see how this format translates to stairs, skylights, or everyday moments on the sidewalk.
”To see in color is a delight for the eye, but to see in black and white is delight for the soul.”
