Glass and Sky
Look up long enough in a financial district and the buildings start to lean towards each other. The picture is about that lean, and about the one slice of sky they leave. At street level the tower is a lobby…


Isabelle is a photographer based in Barcelona, working across travel, portrait and documentary. She shoots primarily on 35mm film and publishes field notes from each project.
Look up long enough in a financial district and the buildings start to lean towards each other. The picture is about that lean, and about the one slice of sky they leave. At street level the tower is a lobby…

Every summer afternoon the same rock, the same queue of teenagers and the same second of silence before the splash. I stood on the opposite ledge for an hour to get one figure alone against the water. The frame works…

The seaplane takes twenty minutes and the pilot banks once over the island if you ask nicely. I asked nicely, pressed the lens against the window and got four frames before the wing came round. From above, a place is…

The poppies were the reason for the drive, and for once the reason was enough. By seven the field had gone from red to redder and the light had come down to the height of the flowers. Long lens, wide…

A dune does not hurry, and at dawn neither should you. The ripples in the sand are the wind's handwriting from the night before; the only thing that has crossed them is my own shadow, kept out of the frame.

The owner sets the tables at half past eleven and the first people arrive at noon. In between, the striped awnings, the bistro chairs and the potted plants pose for anyone who notices. I noticed on the third morning. The…

Late morning on the bay, the first umbrellas up and the boats still tied. The town climbs the hill behind in three shades of ochre. The pier gives the only high vantage point without a drone, and I do not…

Before the shutters rise and the pavements fill, the city belongs to the people who prepare it for everyone else. This study follows that short interval: hands lifting, stacking and repeating the same precise gestures while the first hard light…

A gateway in the old town, one arch and a ceiling carved by someone who knew nobody would look up. I photographed it from underneath with the lens pointed straight at the keystone. The picture is the coffers. Everything else…

New work, field notes and the occasional dispatch from wherever the light is good.