The Moment I Saw in Black and White
I arrived in Zurich on assignment, not knowing what to expect from a city I’d only imagined. With my work complete, I gave myself the gift of an extra day—a quiet stretch of hours to wander, to get lost, to discover.
It was the season of grey: the sky a pale veil, the streets slick with quiet, and the stone buildings stoic in their timelessness. My Kodachrome stayed tucked away—color felt useless, misplaced. Then I reached the walkway beside the River Limmat, and everything changed.
A Man, A Bridge, A Composition in Fog
There, emerging from the fog, was one of Zurich’s graceful bridges—its form arched and layered in tone, perfectly set against the blank white of the sky. I pulled out a single roll of black and white film I’d packed on instinct.
Two lampposts stood like sentinels. I shifted right, waiting for the geometry to speak. And then he appeared—striding with purpose, alone in the frame, arm swinging, his posture both elegant and defiant against the day’s stillness.
Two frames. That was all I captured of him on that 36-exposure roll.
This was the first.
And the best.
From that moment on, Zurich revealed itself not in color, but in form.
In shadow.
In line and curve.
In shades of grey.
And black.
And white.
Available in a Limited Edition of 15, with 2 Artist Proofs
