Running in the Rain by Sergiy Kadulin
Captured during a sudden downpour on Tbilisi’s Shota Rustaveli Avenue, this evocative image documents a fleeting moment of childhood joy. Seeking shelter at the historic St. George Church, the photographer observed a young girl sprinting through the rain. Her spontaneous smile, directed toward the camera, transforms a gloomy weather event into a vibrant narrative of resilience and happiness. The photograph is award-worthy for its candid emotional resonance and the masterful use of a shallow depth of field, which isolates the subject against the atmospheric, rain-swept urban backdrop, effectively freezing a brief, heartwarming human connection in time.
Exposure 1/500sec @ f/2.8 | ISO 800 | Focal Length 145mm
Sergiy Kadulin
Born in Kyiv, Ukraine, in 1967, Sergiy Kadulin balances a distinguished career in the information technology sector with a profound, lifelong dedication to photography. His artistic journey began with his grandfather’s vintage camera and evolved through rigorous formal training at the Kyiv School of Photography and the New York Institute of Photography. Specializing in travel, landscape, and reportage photography, Kadulin views his craft as a vital medium for personal growth. He strives to capture the inherent beauty of the world and its people, aiming to share his deep appreciation for humanity and nature through every frame.
Resonance Score Breakdown
Transparency Note: The resonance score (13.1/20) is calculated based on social engagement metrics collected before the award announcement.
Expert Photography Reviews · 8
The Salt of the Storm
The smell of dry earth turning to mud is the first thing that hits the back of my throat. It is a sharp, metallic scent, like copper coins held in a damp palm.
Read the reflection →The Rhythm of the Unbound
We spend so much of our lives seeking shelter, building walls of glass and stone to keep the sky at bay. We treat the rain as an intruder, a sudden disruption to the neat, dry lines of our plans.
Read the reflection →Reviews & Comments
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The shallow depth of field isolates the subject, yet the background’s chaotic blur lacks necessary geometric anchor. It’s a frantic, unmoored composition. While the girl’s trajectory cuts across the frame, the spatial tension doesn’t resolve; it merely drifts. I’ve grown weary of such reliance on fleeting expression to mask structural instability. The frame fails to hold the weight of the rain. It’s technically proficient, but the architecture of the scene remains fundamentally hollow.
Most street photography is just noise, but this caught me off guard. While others fumbled with cluttered backgrounds, Kadulin used that 145mm compression to turn Tbilisi’s rain into a soft, silver curtain. It’s the girl’s unscripted, genuine grin that anchors the frame. I’ve seen thousands of rainy-day shots, but this one feels like a memory I actually own. It’s not just a technical success; it’s a rare, honest piece of joy that’ll still matter in thirty years.
Rain isn’t merely weather here; it’s a veil of gray indifference. Kadulin’s subject cuts through the gloom, yet I’m haunted by the darkness clinging to the church’s stone edges. It’s not the girl’s smile that lingers, but the way the shadows swallow the street behind her. It’s a cold, sharp isolation. I find myself shivering, not from the rain, but from the realization that she’s sprinting toward a light that doesn’t promise her any warmth at all.
The grey, slate-heavy atmosphere of Tbilisi dissolves into a luminous, rain-slicked silver, echoing the melancholic restraint of a Morandi still life, yet it’s the girl’s coat—a startling, defiant burst of primary red—that truly arrests the senses. It’s a chromatic collision I find utterly intoxicating, as if the damp urban gloom couldn’t possibly contain such warmth. One feels the sudden, sharp intake of breath, a visceral, shivering joy that cuts through the cold, wet air.
The rain in Tbilisi doesn’t just fall; it hums against the stone. I’ve spent enough hours waiting for the sky to break to know that feeling of sudden, cold relief. She’s running through that flat, grey light, and it’s as if the city’s gloom has finally exhaled. I find myself smiling back at her. It’s a rare, quiet grace—a moment where the shutter didn’t just capture a girl, but the very spirit of the storm.
Tbilisi rain blurs into gray static. The girl is a sharp, sudden note in a quiet room. She’s running, but the frame holds her still. I’ve spent minutes watching her smile. It’s a fragile, fleeting anchor. The background dissolves into soft, wet bokeh. Nothing here is accidental. The empty corner is not empty. It’s the space where the storm breathes. I feel a strange, cold peace looking at her. It’s enough.
Most folks would have tucked their gear away the moment the clouds opened over Tbilisi. It’s a damp, miserable business, standing in a downpour with a 70-200mm lens, waiting for a child to sprint into frame. I’ve spent enough hours shivering in the rain to know that smile wasn’t a lucky accident; it was bought with wet boots and patience. It’s a rare, genuine spark of joy. I’d have stayed for the pneumonia, too.
At 145mm and f/2.8, the focal plane is razor-thin, isolating the subject from the chaotic diffraction of Tbilisi’s rain. The Canon’s glass handles the high-contrast highlights on the wet pavement beautifully, avoiding chromatic aberration despite the challenging light. It’s a precise optical capture of kinetic energy. I’m genuinely moved by how the bokeh renders those raindrops into soft, luminous orbs; it’s a rare moment where the lens’s physics perfectly align with the fleeting, human joy of the scene.