Inter-continental Fireworks by Orhan Aksel
Captured during the transition into the new decade on New Year's Eve, this photograph depicts the vibrant fireworks over the Bosphorus in Istanbul. To escape the bustling crowds, the photographer waded into the chilly waters, positioning himself to frame the natural divide between Europe and Asia. The long exposure captures the ethereal drift of pyrotechnic trails against the night sky, accentuated by the brisk winds of the evening. This image is award-worthy for its unique perspective and the technical patience required to balance the ambient light of the city with the fleeting, wind-swept brilliance of the fireworks.
Orhan Aksel
Born in 1961, Orhan Aksel is an industrial and systems engineer based in Istanbul, Turkey. A graduate of the University of Florida, he balances his professional life as a high-tech entrepreneur with a lifelong passion for photography that began in the darkrooms of his youth. Aksel approaches his craft with a philanthropic vision, aspiring to leverage his artistic hobby to support the education of children in need. His work reflects a deep commitment to technical precision and a desire to document the world through a compassionate lens.
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Read the reflection →Reviews & Comments
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Most would’ve stayed dry on the shore, clutching a glass of champagne. Instead, Aksel waded into the Bosphorus, trading warmth for a perspective that actually matters. It’s a cold, miserable way to spend New Year’s Eve, and I’ve enough frostbitten toes to respect the commitment. The long exposure doesn’t just catch the fireworks; it captures the shiver in the air. One doesn’t get this shot by accident. He clearly earned every bit of it.
The Bosphorus doesn’t merely reflect the pyrotechnic ignition; it drinks the bruised violet of the night, bleeding into the sulfurous, cadmium-yellow trails that shiver against the dark like a Turner seascape gone electric. I’m breathless watching how the cold, tidal indigo anchors the chaos, creating a chromatic tension that feels almost liturgical. It’s a rare, shivering harmony where the city’s artificial fever finally finds its peace within the deep, indifferent currents of the sea.
Aksel wades into the freezing Bosphorus, seeking a divide between continents that the darkness already understands. The fireworks are mere frantic scribbles against an abyss that refuses to be illuminated. I’ve stood in such cold, feeling the water pull at my own mortality. It’s a haunting, lonely geometry. He hasn’t captured a celebration; he’s captured the silence that waits when the sparks die. The shadows here don’t just frame the light—they consume it entirely.
Most fireworks shots are visual noise, but Aksel’s decision to wade into the Bosphorus gives this a grounding that others lack. By anchoring the frame in the dark, frigid water, he forces the pyrotechnics to compete with the city’s geography rather than just floating in a void. I’ve seen thousands of these displays, yet this one makes me shiver. It’s the cold, deliberate patience here that ensures we’ll still be looking at this in thirty years.