still life

The empty space of the sky gives the image a strong sense of balance. The two trees on each side act as a natural frame, leading the eye toward the hanging clothes. The contrast between the fine lines of the branches and the soft shapes of the fabric adds depth and texture. It’s a minimal composition, but one that feels complete. Light, form, and silence all work together.

Light cuts through the room in perfect diagonal lines, turning an ordinary space into something almost abstract. The closed blinds shape the light, guiding the eye over the dresser to the faint reflection in the mirror. The contrast between brightness and shadow defines the composition. This was my old bedroom, often filled with smoke from the fireplace in winter.

Viseu, around 1990. A typical pharmacy, filled with all kinds of products and belonging to a fully analog era. Every shelf tells of a time when everything was done by hand. Slower, but with a certain charm that has now disappeared.

An old mailbox slot once marked “CARTAS”, now missing the “C” and the “S,” leaving only “ARTA”. Time has softened every edge, turning decay into texture. There’s a quiet beauty in the details — the craft, the aging surface, the sense that countless letters once passed through this small opening.

Two axes rest against a tree stump, surrounded by a wall of stacked wood. The tools, marked by years of use, seem to wait in quiet pause between labour and rest. The composition is simple but strong — lines, textures, and balance forming a kind of rural still life, where effort and patience leave their trace.