Some places seem to carry their own silence. This apse in Santa Sabina feels like that. The dark wood of the altar, the repeating columns of marble, the calm symmetry—it all builds to the dome above, where Christ, robed in light, sits surrounded by figures and sheep. The fresco isn’t dramatic, but it draws you in slowly, the way your eyes adjust to darkness and suddenly see more. The faint reflections across the windows almost look like echoes of the figures painted above them.
What struck me when taking this was how the light pooled differently on each surface. The windows didn’t let in beams; they let in patterns—tiny lattices of filtered light that softened the edges of everything. It made the space feel less like stone and more like something momentarily alive.
I remember the hush of it, and how people instinctively whispered even if they were alone. I found myself doing the same, even when just framing the shot. Some scenes deserve that kind of quiet.
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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