Abandoned Windmills Above the Sea by Marissa Tejada
Perched atop the windswept hills of Kimolos Island, these crumbling, traditional windmills stand as silent sentinels of a bygone era in Greek island life. The photographer captured the stark contrast between the weathered stone ruins and the vast, serene expanse of the Aegean Sea. By utilizing a wide 18mm focal length, the image emphasizes the isolation of these structures against the expansive horizon. This photograph is award-worthy for its evocative storytelling, successfully transforming a relic of agricultural history into a poignant meditation on time, resilience, and the enduring spirit of the Cyclades.
Marissa Tejada
Born in Brooklyn, New York, Marissa Tejada is an award-winning freelance journalist and travel writer currently based in Athens, Greece. Her diverse career spans international news production and television reporting across several major cities, including London and Los Angeles. Inspired by her life in Europe, she authored the novel Chasing Athens and continues to document her experiences through insightful travel writing and photography on her blog, My Greece, My Travels.
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Expert Photography Reviews · 4
The Architecture of Silence
Why do we feel a kinship with things that have outlived their purpose? We build structures to hold our grain, our labor, and our prayers, believing that stone and mortar can anchor us against the relentless tide of the years.
Read the reflection →The Wisdom of Letting Go
There is a quiet grace in the way things return to the earth. We often fear the slow erosion of time, seeing only the loss of form or the fading of purpose. Yet, there is a profound peace in watching a structure surrender its utility to the wind and the salt air.
Read the reflection →Reviews & Comments
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Before the eye identifies the stone, something in the chest tightens. It’s a sudden, hollow ache—the sensation of being left behind by the tide. I feel the salt-cracked silence of Kimolos in my own lungs. When I return to these ruins a year later, the Aegean’s vastness feels heavier, more personal. It’s not just a landscape; it’s the quiet, rhythmic pulse of everything we’ve outlived. I find myself holding my breath, waiting for them to turn.
The Aegean pulls at the frame, a vast, blue edit that refuses to settle. Those stone ruins aren’t just relics; they’re characters frozen mid-scene, waiting for a wind that never arrives. I’m struck by the silence here—it’s heavy, cinematic, and lonely. At 18mm, the horizon stretches until it snaps. It’s a perfect wide shot. The cut would’ve been a mistake. You’ve captured the exact moment the story stops moving, and it’s hauntingly beautiful.
The Aegean wind on Kimolos is rarely polite; it strips the skin from your knuckles. One suspects Tejada didn’t just wander up here for a quick snap. She’s captured the precise, hollow silence of those stone shells against a flat, indifferent sea. It’s a lonely frame, and I’ve felt that specific chill in my own bones. She clearly returned until the light stopped mocking her. It’s a proper bit of work, earned through sheer, stubborn endurance.
The 18mm focal length stretches the horizon, forcing a precarious spatial tension between the stone mass and the Aegean void. It’s a rigid geometry. The windmills anchor the frame, yet the negative space threatens to dissolve the entire composition. I’ve grown weary of such romanticized ruins, but the structural discipline here holds. The fulcrum of the frame doesn’t collapse under the weight of the sky. It’s a cold, calculated success. The architecture remains absolute.
Super capture! Congratulations ! Well done.