BLACK AND WHITE

There is a version of the world that exists beneath colour, one built from shadow and form and the precise way light falls across a surface. Most people have to strip colour away to find it. For me, it was always the first thing I saw.

An elephant in black and white is no longer grey. It is ancient. A landscape without warmth becomes something closer to memory than place. The zebra, which spends its whole life hiding in the logic of its own pattern, finally makes a different kind of sense. What colour distracts from, contrast reveals, and what contrast reveals has a habit of feeling more true than the original thing, as though the photograph is not a reduction of the world but a clarification of it.