Light & Composition University | Master Photography

Priya Kapoor

Priya Kapoor has contributed to Light & Composition since 2010. Her Reflections approach photography through the body rather than the mind — opening with something tasted, smelled, or touched before arriving at the image itself. Priya writes about memory as it lives in the hands and the throat, not the intellect. Her pieces have a physical texture that readers describe as something closer to sensation than to reading.

Photo of the Day

January 26, 2012

The Pulse of Air

The smell of dry, sun-baked stone always brings me back to the heat of a summer afternoon, the kind that makes the air shimmer like a held breath. I remember the feeling of sudden, frantic movement against my skin—not a touch, but the rush of displaced air, a thousand tiny heartbeats vibrating in unison. It […]

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Photo of the Day

January 25, 2012

Velvet Held in Breath

The smell of rain on hot pavement always brings me back to the feeling of damp wool against my neck. It is a heavy, clinging scent, one that settles deep into the lungs and makes the skin prickle with a strange, quiet electricity. I remember pressing my face into the rough weave of a sweater, […]

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Photo of the Day

January 23, 2012

The Weight of Petals

The scent of crushed marigolds is a heavy, humid thing that clings to the back of the throat. It is the smell of damp earth mixed with the sharp, green sting of snapped stems. When I close my eyes, I can feel the cool, waxy texture of petals against my fingertips, a soft friction that […]

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Photo of the Day

January 21, 2012

The Grit of Time

The smell of dry earth after a long-awaited rain is a scent that clings to the back of the throat, metallic and ancient. I remember the feeling of sun-baked stone against my palms, a rough, unforgiving heat that seemed to seep into my very marrow. It is a texture that speaks of endurance, of skin […]

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Photo of the Day

January 15, 2012

The Heat of Memory

The back of my throat still remembers the sharp, sudden sting of red pepper. It is a dry, prickling heat that blooms slowly, like a secret shared between the tongue and the roof of the mouth. I recall the way the kitchen air felt—thick with the scent of damp earth from chopped chives and the […]

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Photo of the Day

January 12, 2012

The Weight of Stone

The air in a place of deep silence has a specific texture; it feels like cold wool pressed against the back of the throat. I remember walking through a narrow alleyway where the walls were so close they seemed to breathe, damp and smelling of wet limestone and ancient, trapped shadows. There is a heaviness […]

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Photo of the Day

January 12, 2012

The Breath of Ancient Cold

The air in the high mountains tastes of nothing—a sharp, metallic clarity that stings the back of the throat like crushed mint. It is a dry, biting cold that settles deep into the marrow, making the bones feel brittle and heavy, as if they were carved from the same stone that anchors the earth. I […]

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Photo of the Day

January 10, 2012

The Hum of Stillness

The air before a storm has a specific weight, a metallic tang that settles on the back of the tongue like a copper coin. It is a dry, electric stillness that makes the fine hairs on my arms stand upright, sensing a shift before the sky even darkens. I remember sitting in tall, brittle grass […]

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Photo of the Day

January 9, 2012

The Scent of Ancient Dust

The smell of dry earth after a long-awaited rain is a heavy, metallic sweetness that clings to the back of the throat. It is the scent of history settling into the pores of the skin. I remember the feeling of rough, sun-baked stone beneath my palms, a heat that seemed to pulse with a slow, […]

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Photo of the Day

January 8, 2012

The Salt of Lived Years

The skin of an orange, when pressed, releases a sharp, stinging mist that clings to the fingertips for hours. It is a scent of sun-drenched orchards and the quiet, slow work of ripening. I think of the way time settles into the body, not as a weight, but as a texture—a map of creases etched […]

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Photo of the Day

January 4, 2012

The Singe of Memory

The smell of kerosene always pulls me back to the damp concrete of my childhood courtyard. It is a sharp, oily scent that clings to the back of the throat, metallic and ancient. When the flame finally catches, there is a sudden, dry heat that prickles the skin of your forearms, a warning that the […]

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Photo of the Day

January 1, 2012

The Weight of Silence

The air before a storm has a specific, metallic taste—like copper coins pressed against the tongue. It is a heavy, static-charged breath that makes the fine hairs on my arms stand upright, searching for a shift in the wind that refuses to come. I remember standing in a field just like this, where the soil […]

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Reflections by Priya Kapoor

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