Earlier today I passed by a familiar corner of the city and found a small sea of bicycles resting shoulder to shoulder. Some probably belonged to people still at work, others to friends lingering over late conversations nearby. Scenes like this feel very “city,” quiet proof of how many small routines overlap to keep a place moving.
Bicycles are a big part of that rhythm. If you own one, every ride is basically free, and even rentals are kind to the wallet. But beyond the practicality, I’m drawn to them as subjects. In black and white, their details come alive, the curve of a saddle, the thick lip of a whitewall tire, spokes crossing like stitched lines, scuffed fenders, worn chains. Each bike carries hints of its owner, a tightened rack that speaks of errands, a padded seat that suggests extra-long commutes, a kickstand permanently polished by habit.
Shooting them is like photographing a crowd where every face looks familiar yet different. I moved around the row, framing close and wide, letting the background melt while the textures took center stage. The city pavement gave me clean geometry, the bikes added character. I like how monochrome turns the scene into a study of form and function, no color to distract, just light, shadow, and the everyday design we often overlook.
Maybe that’s why these frames make me pause. They’re ordinary, but never the same twice. People come and go, the bikes wait, and somehow the story continues each time we pass.
Thanks for stopping by and viewing my photos. Wishing everyone a good weekend ahead, may your rides be smooth, your brakes quiet, and your journeys take you somewhere a little unexpected.
~ Andri Cauldwell
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