Obscura Series

Abstract by time and decay (and a bit of rust)

Abstract art has a habit of drawing us in, not always with answers, but with questions. What is this? Why does it feel like something? Why am I staring at a wall that probably hasn’t been cleaned since 1987?

Obscura lives in that space. Beyond the literal, beyond the neatly labelled. It invites you to look again at the shapeless and undefined: torn posters, flaking paint, rust creeping in like it owns the place. These aren’t just surfaces. They’re stories told in texture, time, and a fair bit of neglect.

The eye, forever hunting for patterns, finds itself oddly satisfied. And maybe a little confused.

That’s where the magic happens.

A quiet accidental art.

The streets have a way of making art without meaning to. Paper and plastic, faded ink, rusted metal, and the strange elegance of a wall shedding its skin - it all starts to speak if you’re paying attention (or just staring long enough).

A half-ripped advert, paint that’s taken early retirement, colours bleeding into each other like they’ve had enough - this is beauty, whether the city meant it or not. And usually, it didn’t.

This collection captures those overlooked in-between moments: messages that no longer matter, surfaces surrendering gracefully to the elements, textures shaped by time and indifference. Together, they whisper of a city that’s constantly crumbling and remaking itself; not in a grand way, but in the quietly poetic kind you nearly miss.

Time becomes the artist.

There’s something strangely moving about things that are falling apart - a faded kind of dignity, a defiant bit of charm.

What was once temporary becomes oddly permanent in its ruin.

Rust blooms like watercolour on steel. Paint folds away from its wall like it’s looking for better company. Paper thins to near transparency. And through it all, photography steps in with its usual timing, saying; let’s keep this.

Obscura is a reminder that time has a style all its own. It rearranges things with no concern for our plans, and often does a better job.

In these images, you’ll find fragments of what once was, holding space for something else entirely. Maybe memory. Maybe meaning.

Or maybe just a shabby wall that looks unexpectedly beautiful on a grey Tuesday.

And if it makes you stop and look a little longer, well, then it’s doing what it’s meant to.