It almost looks like sound frozen in time. This piece plays with light and movement so delicately that it feels more like a trace of something rather than the thing itself. Thin waves of brightness fold and cross over each other, forming gentle arcs that dissolve back into the dark. There’s no single focal point here—your eye just drifts, following the rhythm of the curves.
This was photographed at Rijksmuseum Twenthe, and what drew me in was the way the light seemed to behave like breath. It reminded me of watching fog in the cold—here one moment, gone the next, and impossible to catch. The simplicity of black and white emphasizes the structure and motion without distraction. It’s minimal, but not cold. There’s a kind of softness in the gradient that feels unexpectedly calming.
I found myself staring longer than I thought I would. Sometimes the most abstract shapes feel strangely familiar—like they’re echoing something you’ve felt before but never quite put into words.
Welcome to my world of photography. I am Martijn Jebbink, born in the Netherlands and living in Rome.
I grew up in a small town, surrounded by an impressive forest. In that environment I developed my own way of looking at the world. At first, I didn’t see..
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