Beautiful Jounieh by Zahraa Al Hassani
Perched atop the Harissa mountain, the photographer sought to capture the sweeping majesty of Jounieh, a jewel of the Mount Lebanon region. By ascending to this vantage point, the photographer successfully framed the intricate relationship between the coastal urban landscape and the rugged terrain. This aerial perspective highlights the dramatic topography of the area, transforming a familiar view into a compelling narrative of light and geography. The image stands out for its masterful composition, which balances the vastness of the horizon with the intimate details of the city below, earning recognition for its exceptional visual impact.
Sergiy Kadulin
Born in Kyiv, Ukraine, in 1967, Sergiy Kadulin grew up in the family with his sister and mother, as his father died when they were two years old. He graduated from the military aviation academy as Avionics Engineer, and then from IBR MBA school, Ukraine. While majority of his professional career was with information technology, where he worked for such companies as APC, hp, Microsoft, and Apple, but photography for years remained his greatest passion and hobby. In June 2013, he left his job and IT career to focus full time on developing his own professional photography business. Sergiy’s first experience was with his grandfather’s camera (made in 1936), and while he was studying in school he started in-depth learning of photography, including dark room processing, and shooting with color films. His first own camera was Smena-8M, which he had to shared with his sister. It
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Expert Photography Reviews · 8
The Weight of the View
I keep a small, tarnished brass key in a velvet-lined box, though I have long since forgotten which door it once opened. It is heavy for its size, cold to the touch, and carries the faint, metallic scent of a house that no longer exists.
Read the reflection →The Earth Breathes Below
There is a particular kind of grace found in looking down from a great height. When we stand upon the earth, we are often lost in the noise of our own footsteps, caught in the immediate tangle of the day. But when we rise, the world softens.
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High above the Harissa mountain, she waited for the city to settle into its own rhythm. It’s a quiet, breathless perspective. I’ve stood in such places, feeling the cool wind pull the heat from the stone. The way the light clings to the coastline here, softening the urban sprawl into something almost sacred, truly moves me. She didn’t just capture Jounieh; she listened to the land until it finally revealed its fragile, shimmering grace.
The bruised indigo of the Mediterranean at dusk bleeds into the city’s electric amber, a collision of temperatures that feels like a Morandi still life stretched across a coastline. It’s a haunting, chromatic ache; I’m genuinely breathless at how the haze softens the harsh urban sprawl into a velvet wash of violet. One finds here a rare, liquid harmony, where the light doesn’t merely illuminate the geography—it dissolves it into pure, resonant emotion.
We look at Jounieh from Harissa’s height and we don’t just see geography; we see a city holding its breath. Zahraa Al Hassani has listened to the mountainside, capturing the way the urban sprawl clings to the coast like a secret. It’s a portrait of a place that’s tired but resilient. I feel a sudden, sharp ache for the people living in those tiny, glowing windows. It’s a photograph that asks to be returned to.
The frame’s geometry is its salvation. The coastal curve anchors the lower register, while the mountain’s incline provides a necessary diagonal thrust. It’s a rigid, calculated architecture that prevents the sprawl of Jounieh from dissolving into mere chaos. I’ve grown tired of aerial shots that lack this discipline, but here, the spatial tension holds. The horizon line acts as a strict fulcrum. It’s a rare, cold clarity that actually commands my respect.
Before the eye identifies the coastline, a sudden stillness settles in the chest. The altitude creates a strange, vertiginous ache, as if my own pulse is syncing with the tide below. It’s a quiet, cold clarity. When I return to this view, I don’t see a city; I feel the weight of the mountain pressing against the sea. It’s haunting, really. I’ve found myself breathing shallower just looking at that sharp, jagged horizon again.
You climbed high to get this, and I can feel the cool air up there on Harissa. It’s a clean, sharp look at Jounieh, but I’m left searching for the pulse of the streets below. You’ve captured the geography perfectly, yet I’m missing the people who live in those tiny, glowing boxes. Because you’ve got the technical skill, I’d love to see you bring that same eye down to the sidewalk. It’s a beautiful view, truly.
Most aerial shots of Jounieh are just postcards, but this one holds a tension between the encroaching concrete and the mountain’s stubborn slope. I’ve seen thousands of cityscapes, yet the way the light catches the bay’s edge here makes me feel a genuine ache for the coast’s fragility. It’s not just a view; it’s a record of a landscape losing its battle with growth. That’s why it’ll still matter in thirty years. It’s honest.
Getting to Harissa is a chore, but capturing the light as it bleeds across Jounieh’s coastline requires more than just a sturdy tripod. One suspects the photographer didn’t just stumble upon this clarity; they waited for the haze to lift, likely shivering while the city lights flickered to life. It’s a sharp, disciplined frame. I’ve spent enough hours on those limestone ridges to respect the commitment here. It’s a proper, earned view.