Colorful Space by Joaquín Alonso Arellano Ramírez
In this evocative capture, Joaquín Alonso Arellano Ramírez explores the concept of 'Space,' shifting the focus from the primary subject to the surrounding environment. By highlighting the hidden, often overlooked areas that define our physical world, the photographer reveals the surprising beauty found in uncommon scenarios. The composition is defined by a vibrant palette and a keen eye for atmospheric detail, transforming a simple setting into a compelling visual narrative. This work is award-worthy for its thoughtful conceptual approach, demonstrating how a deliberate shift in perspective can elevate a mundane space into a striking, colorful exploration of light and form.
Alyssa Traub
Alyssa Traub has been a working photographer for the past 7 years, and represented by Agora Gallery in New York City from 2009-2010. She paints and sculpts as well as takes photographs. She is a graduate of Rochester Institute of Technology with both her Masters in Science in Art Education, and her Bachelors of Fine Art in Fine Art Photography. Her true passion is landscape photography, but she also loves to experiment with different techniques and styles when taking photographs. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="145"] Alyssa Traub[/caption] Camera Gear: Nikon D700 Current Location: Rochester, New York Website: www.alyssatraub.com, www.adtraub.etsy.com Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Alyssa-Traub-Art/149970445033307 Twitter: http://twitter.
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Expert Photography Reviews · 8
The Architecture of Absence
We often mistake the city for its monuments, those grand gestures of stone and glass that demand our attention. But the true document of urban life is found in the margins—the interstitial spaces where the grand plan fades and the reality of daily existence takes over.
Read the reflection →The Architecture of In-Between
I remember sitting in a small cafe in Monterrey, watching a man paint a wall in the alleyway outside. He wasn't painting a mural or a sign; he was simply covering a patch of peeling plaster with a shade of blue that felt entirely too bright for such a forgotten corner.
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A wall of ochre. A sliver of blue. It’s quiet here. I’ve spent minutes watching the shadow stretch across the plaster. It doesn’t demand attention. It simply exists. The frame is stripped of noise, leaving only the weight of the void. I feel a sudden, sharp stillness in my chest. Nothing here is accidental. The empty corner is not empty. It’s a breath held in the heat of Monterrey. A rare, disciplined silence.
At f/3.2, the NIKKOR 105mm renders the focal plane with a surgical thinness that’s truly intoxicating. The bokeh, a function of that wide aperture, dissolves the background into a soft, chromatic wash that highlights the diffraction of light across the subject’s surface. It’s a rare pleasure to see such deliberate control over the optical limits. I’m genuinely moved by how the lens resolves these overlooked textures; it’s a beautiful, precise dance between glass and color.
Color here doesn’t invite; it interrogates. Ramírez forces us into the periphery, where the light hits the wall with a violence that feels almost liturgical. I’m unsettled by how the shadows refuse to anchor the frame, instead bleeding into the void like ink in water. It’s a haunting reminder that space isn’t just distance, but a weight we carry. I’ve stared at this for an hour, and honestly, it’s the silence in the corners that hurts.
The light hits the wall and suddenly, the frame breathes. It’s a tight, cinematic close-up where the environment becomes the lead actor. I love how the 105mm lens flattens the depth, turning a mundane Monterrey corner into a vibrant, abstract sequence. It doesn’t need a subject; the color is the narrative. The cut would’ve been a mistake. This is the frame the editor keeps because it holds the silence perfectly. It’s a beautiful, lingering shot.
It’s rare to find such stillness in the urban sprawl of Monterrey. Joaquín stood here when the light had finally softened, listening to the way color breathes against the concrete. I’ve spent hours waiting for that exact, fleeting glow to settle on a forgotten wall. It makes my chest ache, that quiet recognition of beauty in the overlooked. He didn’t force the scene; he simply waited until the space itself decided to reveal its hidden, vibrant soul.
1/250sec at f/3.2, 105mm. The Nikon D7000’s sensor is pushed here, but the shallow depth of field isolates the subject with surgical precision. It’s a calculated risk that pays off. Most would’ve stopped down to f/8, losing the atmospheric separation. I’ve spent years staring at histograms, and frankly, this one’s clean. The choice of aperture is the only reason this composition holds together. It’s technically sound. I actually find myself respecting the restraint shown here.
Most entries this year relied on heavy-handed editing to force a mood, but this piece succeeds by finding grace in the mundane. The way the light hits those specific textures makes me want to reach out and touch the wall—it’s a rare, tactile honesty. By prioritizing the negative space over the subject, Joaquín forces us to look at the world’s quiet corners. It’s a simple, enduring study that’ll still feel relevant in thirty years.
You’ve found a quiet pulse in the architecture of Monterrey. It’s easy to get lost in the geometry, but I keep looking for the person who isn’t there. Because you chose that 105mm lens, you’ve pulled the color right out of the air, making the space feel heavy with potential. It’s lonely, but it’s not empty. I felt a sudden, sharp ache for the silence of that room. You waited for the light to settle. That’s honest.