An island of light in motion

Ireland is not just a geographical place. It is a living organism, breathing and moving through light.
During my journey, I learned to recognize its invisible rhythms, those marked not by clocks but by clouds that part, fogs that fall, glimpses of sun that illuminate an entire coast for a few seconds.

Walking among promontories and cliffs, I understood that photographing in Ireland means, first of all, observing with patience. It means accepting that the perfect scene exists only for a moment. Sometimes it is the sea that opens up in metallic reflections, other times it is a beam of light that pierces the clouds and transforms an ordinary place into a sacred stage.

“The time of Irish light is the time of contemplation. You cannot force it, you can only go with it.”

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The weather and the interior time

Each photograph I took in this project is the result of an overlapping of times:
• The external time, unstable and changeable, which changes the light and the colors.
• The internal time, that of my attention, of my willingness to wait, observe and breathe the landscape.

The Irish climate forced me to listen, rather than to shoot.
And in that silence made of wind and rain, I began to perceive the landscape not only as a background to portray, but as a companion of dialogue.

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Black and White as an act of synthesis

In such a dynamic context, the choice of black and white allowed me to distill the essence of the scene.
Color would probably have told the mutability in a more obvious way.
Black and white, on the other hand, forces you to look at the light as a narrative structure, to read the tones as emotions in transformation.

“The light became a thin line between reality and abstraction. Every shade of gray was a thought, a gesture.”

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Every shot as waiting

I remember moments when I would remain still for half an hour, my finger ready on the shutter button, my gaze fixed on the composition.
I waited for the light to speak.
For it to draw that detail on the rock, or light up a stretch of water in the distance.

Shooting too early would have betrayed the scene.
Shooting too late would have made it vanish.

This approach transformed each photograph into an exercise in presence, a way of being in the landscape, and not just in front of it.