Ethnicolor isn’t just a collection of street shots — it’s a sustained meditation on how color, light, and human presence interact across cultures and geographies.
It is not a document of places. It is an argument about light — about how the sun falls differently on a Havana wall than on a Kathmandu alley, and how those differences, refracted through the people who inhabit them, become something close to music. I went out without a plan. I followed the light. I let color lead me to the human, and the human lead me back to color.
What emerged, over years and across continents, is this: that color is not decoration. It is identity. It is the chromatic fingerprint of a culture, a moment, a life being lived. In every city I have walked, I have seen people become part of their surroundings — absorbed into walls, illuminated by signs, silhouetted against skies that belong only to that place and that hour.
These are those moments. They will not come again.
Ethnicolor