I Unmake Their Skies
I unmake their skies shuffling horizon into horizon like squares on a board, unsettling colors, slipping between universes, laying earth where sky once breathed and sky where the earth fell away. And still, they go on. A choreography of wings, drawn together by an unseen thread, a spine formed in the space between them. They come and go, drift apart and fold back into one another, scatter for a moment, then gather again, until it is impossible to tell whether they are moving through space or space is moving through them. A wild, exquisite turning, where one begins and another ends no longer matters.
shiri malca
Photography, for me, is never just an image. It is a held breath, the meeting of light and shadow, of water and street, of dream and routine. My name is Shiri, a fine-art photographer whom life also placed behind a lawyer's desk. But behind the lens I am who I truly am: a lover of people, a teller of stories without words. Searching for the tiny moment when the world holds its breath, sometimes in the waves of the sea, sometimes in the coolness of ancient stone, and sometimes in the curling steam rising from a cup of tea in a distant alley. I believe that within the smallest details, a ray of sunlight breaking on the surface of water, steam curling above a cup, a cat crossing a narrow passage, a gaze escaping the frame at the last second, a staircase winding like a story, the soul of people and places lies hidden. I invite you to step in, to see, to breathe, and sometimes, to hear too.
Photography, for me, is never just an image. It is a held breath, the meeting of light and shadow, of water and street, of dream and routine. My name is Shiri, a fine-art photographer whom life also placed behind a lawyer's desk. But behind the lens I am who I truly am: a lover of people, a teller of stories without words. Searching for the tiny moment when the world holds its breath, sometimes in the waves of the sea, sometimes in the coolness of ancient stone, and sometimes in the curling steam rising from a cup of tea in a distant alley. I believe that within the smallest details, a ray of sunlight breaking on the surface of water, steam curling above a cup, a cat crossing a narrow passage, a gaze escaping the frame at the last second, a staircase winding like a story, the soul of people and places lies hidden. I invite you to step in, to see, to breathe, and sometimes, to hear too.
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