Lately, I’ve been paying closer attention to when certain kinds of photographs want to be made, not just how.
Over my past few photo sessions, I’ve noticed a clear pattern emerging in my abstract street work—one shaped less by conscious decision and more by seasonal conditions. Winter has a way of stripping the city down. Colour recedes. Contrast softens. Motion becomes more noticeable because detail disappears.
And in that environment, abstraction doesn’t feel forced. It feels appropriate.
Colour, But Quietly
The colour palette I’m gravitating toward right now is restrained—earth tones, muted yellows, soft greens, snow whites, and weathered concrete. Nothing loud. Nothing saturated. The kind of colour that doesn’t announce itself, but stays present long enough to shape mood.
What surprised me most is how positive the images feel.
Black and white has been my default language for a long time, especially when working abstractly. It’s familiar. It’s disciplined. It removes variables. But it also carries a certain emotional gravity—sometimes distance—that these winter colour images don’t.
The colour work feels warmer. More human. Still abstract, but less severe.
I’m not declaring a permanent shift. I’m simply acknowledging what’s working right now.
Winter as an Ally, Not an Obstacle
Winter flattens light. Snow erases texture. Overcast skies reduce contrast. Traditionally, these are seen as obstacles for street photography. For abstraction, they’re an invitation.
The city becomes quieter visually. The palette narrows on its own. Motion and presence take over where detail once lived. That alignment matters.
I’ve written before about letting conditions guide the work rather than resisting them. This feels like a natural extension of that thinking. When the environment supports the aesthetic, the work comes more honestly.
Constraint as Choice
Here’s the part that feels important to say out loud:
This colour-based abstract work may not function as a year-round style—and that’s okay.
In fact, it might be better if it doesn’t.
There’s something appealing about allowing this body of work to exist only when the season supports it. Winter becomes a constraint, not a limitation. A defined window where abstraction, muted colour, and motion converge naturally.
The rest of the year doesn’t need to bend to this project. Other bodies of work can take precedence. Other visual languages can emerge. That kind of compartmentalization feels healthy, not restrictive.
It allows each project to breathe on its own terms.
A Project That Knows When to Pause
One of the lessons I keep returning to is that not every project needs to be always-on. Some ideas are seasonal by nature. Some only surface when the conditions are right.
If this abstract street portfolio becomes something I pursue deliberately during winter—and set aside when spring arrives—I’m comfortable with that. It gives the work boundaries. It gives it rhythm.
And it gives me permission to follow different instincts at different times of the year without forcing coherence where none exists.
Where This Leaves Me
Right now, I’m letting this muted, earth-toned palette define my abstract work—at least for this season. I’m paying attention to how it feels, how consistently it shows up, and how it aligns with the environment I’m photographing.
Whether it becomes a recurring winter practice or evolves into something else remains to be seen.
For now, it’s enough to recognize that the work is emerging naturally, in conversation with the season, rather than in opposition to it.
And that feels like a good place to be.