Between Water and Time

Venice is often photographed for its canals, its architecture, its beauty. I photographed it for something else. For the quiet moments between the crowds. For the light disappearing into narrow streets. For the feeling of a city that seems to exist somewhere between reality and memory. Three women. Three different stories. One timeless city. These photographs were made during a weekend in Venice, more than a year before I finally returned to them. At the time, I never felt the series was truly finished. Sometimes photographs need distance. You have to leave them alone before you understand what you were actually trying to capture. When I looked at them again, colour suddenly felt unnecessary. Black and white stripped away the distractions and brought me back to what mattered: light, form, expression and atmosphere. The women became part of Venice rather than simply subjects photographed within it. Looking at the photographs now feels less like remembering a photoshoot and more like remembering fragments of a place — a face, a shadow, an empty street, a moment that disappeared almost immediately after the shutter was released. Venice doesn't need colour to be remembered. Some places live better in memory