Staircase by Leanne Lindsay
Captured within the cavernous halls of the MCA, this photograph focuses on Do Ho Suh’s ethereal staircase installation. Crafted from translucent nylon, the structure appears to defy gravity, twisting upward like a wisp of smoke. The photographer utilized a stark black-and-white palette to amplify the installation's otherworldly quality, drawing the viewer’s eye toward a silhouetted figure in the distance. This image is award-worthy for its profound ability to transform a physical sculpture into a metaphorical bridge between memory and identity, capturing a fleeting, dreamlike moment with technical precision and deep emotional resonance.
Exposure 1/40sec @ f/4.5 | ISO 1600 | Focal Length 36mm
Harris Hendrato
Born in Tangerang, Indonesia, in 2001, he graduated from Software Engineering School and developed a passion for photography. While working as a barista, he captured moments during his daily routine. He frequently attends photography seminars and admires Mr. Beawiharta, a former Reuters journalist. Known for his storytelling through photos, he shares his work on his Instagram account, @20thlens. Current Location Tangerang, Indonesia Instagram https://www.instagram.com/20thlens?igsh=OTRxOWJ4NzducTJ2/ Best Achievements, Educational Background, and Exhibitions None Award Winner Photo of the Day Camera Gears Digital Camera: Fujifilm XT 20, Sony A6000 Lenses : Lens TTArtisan 35mm F1.8, Lens E 35mm F1.8 OSS, Lens Kit 16-55mm Film Camera: Fujifilm Joie 35mm Film Roll: Ilford Pan 400 35mm
Resonance Score Breakdown
Transparency Note: The resonance score (8.0/20) is calculated based on social engagement metrics collected before the award announcement.
Expert Photography Reviews · 8
The Weight of Ascending
I keep a small, rusted skeleton key in a velvet-lined box on my desk, though I have long since forgotten which door it once opened. It is heavy for its size, cold and stubborn, a relic of a threshold that no longer exists.
Read the reflection →The Weight of Ascent
We climb to forget the ground. Each step is a small surrender. We leave the weight of the day on the floor below, hoping the next level will offer a thinner air, a quieter mind.
Read the reflection →Reviews & Comments
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Before the eye identifies the nylon structure, something in the chest tightens. It’s a phantom weight, the sensation of climbing stairs that don’t exist. When I look at that distant silhouette, I feel a sudden, sharp loneliness—the kind that hits when you realize you’re the only one left in the room. A year later, I’m still haunted by that translucent drift. It’s not just a staircase; it’s the architecture of a fading memory.
It’s easy to snap a staircase, but capturing that solitary figure requires the sort of patience most don’t possess. I’ve spent enough hours in drafty galleries waiting for the public to clear out to know the cost of this silence. The nylon’s translucency is handled with a restraint I find genuinely refreshing. One suspects she didn’t just walk by; she waited until the architecture finally stopped shouting. It’s a quiet, earned victory. Well played.
The frame breathes. It’s a slow, deliberate pan that stops dead on a ghost. That nylon staircase doesn’t just hang; it drifts, suspended in a silence so heavy I can almost hear the gallery hum. The silhouette is the perfect anchor, the cut that never came. It’s haunting, really. I’ve spent hours staring at this, waiting for the figure to climb. Lindsay caught the exact second the architecture turned into a memory. It’s pure cinema.
Do Ho Suh’s nylon ghost doesn’t merely ascend; it haunts the void. By stripping the MCA of its architectural certainty, the darkness forces us to confront the fragility of our own passage. I’ve stared at that distant silhouette until my eyes ached, feeling the crushing weight of a memory that refuses to solidify. It’s a terrifying, beautiful erasure. When light abandons the frame, we’re finally forced to see what we’ve been trying to forget.
Most entries in this category rely on the architecture’s inherent geometry, but Lindsay captures the ghost of the space instead. By stripping away color, she forces us to confront the nylon’s fragility against the void. It’s the solitary figure that anchors the frame; without them, it’s just a clever trick of light. I’ve stared at this for twenty minutes, and it still makes me feel small. That’s why it’ll endure long after the trends fade.
That silhouette is everything. If Leanne had waited another heartbeat, the figure would’ve merged into the nylon, losing that vital tension against the stairs. It’s a ghost story in monochrome. I love the way the light catches the weave; it feels like walking through a dream I’ve had before. One tenth of a second later and the geometry collapses. She nailed it. It’s rare to see such stillness in a city space. Pure, sharp timing.
Looking at these translucent nylon stairs, I’m struck by how they mimic the suspended, weightless drift of a jellyfish in the midnight zone. There’s no backscatter to contend with here, no red-light absorption stealing the warmth, just a clean, monochromatic stillness. It’s a relief to see such clarity without fighting the refractive index of water. I’ve spent my life chasing light in the deep, but this ethereal, smoke-like structure feels like a beautiful, impossible dive.
We look at this staircase and we don’t see nylon; we see a ghost of a memory climbing toward the light. Leanne Lindsay listened to the silence of that hall before she clicked the shutter. That tiny, silhouetted figure isn’t just a detail; it’s a soul caught in transition. I find myself holding my breath, waiting for them to reach the top. It’s a haunting, beautiful conversation between the architecture of our past and our fleeting presence.