I keep returning to the most ordinary corners of the street. This set continues my small mission to feature the super mundane, the things we step over or pass by because our eyes are busy looking ahead. When I slow down and look down, the ground becomes a gallery.
Top left is a pedestrian sign that’s barked orders for years. Up close, its skin is a honeycomb of retro reflective cells, scuffed and nicked by weather and time. In monochrome, the glare softens and the pattern takes over, turning a simple warning into a textured field.
Rotate a few degrees and the street becomes typography. “PICK UP,” painted on concrete, is no longer a directive but a landscape of letters. Viewed from a different angle, the words stretch and fade, the chipped paint and hairline cracks read like aging ink on a well used page.
Then there’s the glove, plain rubbish to most, a small story to me. On a pebbled surface it becomes an accidental still life, rubber creases, grit, shadows. Without color, it stops being trash and turns into shape, gesture, and texture. You almost expect the owner to come back for it.
Finally, a utility cover anchors the composition with quiet geometry. The square sits slightly skewed, framed by a darker stain shaped like a drifting continent. It’s a reminder that the city’s neat lines are always negotiating with weather, footsteps, and spills.
Black and white helps these scenes breathe. Color often distracts, monochrome pushes pattern, line, and contrast to the front row. That’s why I keep pointing my lens at floors, road markings, and even discarded things. Seen from a different angle, the ignored becomes interesting, and the everyday starts telling stories.
~ Andri Cauldwell
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