Fragments of Light No. 4: Broken Mirrors

Lately, there have been more and more moments when I've had the feeling that my photography is repeating itself.

Year after year, I strove to develop my own style, an image that only I see and create. I wanted to bring out the details, the ridges of a fingerprint, the subtle nuances that define a person. A smile that's just a little different from everyone else's, a moment that exists only in that one second. I wanted to capture those small, almost invisible things that no one else sees.

But the more I delved into my work, the more I realized that if you don't really look closely, all these details go unnoticed. Especially in the world of social media, where so much is perceived quickly and superficially, fingerprints are often barely distinguishable. An image is scanned in seconds, and just like that, it's gone. You see the fingerprint, but you don't recognize the nuances that make it unique.

I wanted to break free from this comparability. I wanted to create something that wasn't just another photo in the sea of ​​images. Something that stood out, that looked different, that showed more of me and my view of the world. I wanted to find a style that embodied more of my own personality, of my "self." It was clear that I had to change something to achieve this goal. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?

It struck me that I needed a reset for this step. Too many habits, too many elements—whether it was the way I used light or how I worked with my models—needed to change. Much of what I had built up over the years suddenly didn't feel right anymore. I didn't want to simply continue as before. It was as if I had to take apart everything I had known and put it back together from scratch.

In this process of rethinking and reflecting, a thought finally came to me that removed all the uncertainty: "My photography is like a broken mirror." Even more: "I myself am like a broken mirror."

For a long time, I searched for a clear image, a method that would allow me to capture a person's "true" character. But the more I thought about it, the clearer it became that it's not about capturing the perfect moment, but about collecting a person's fragments and rearranging them again and again. Every time I press the shutter, I assemble these pieces in a new way, depending on what I see in the person before me. The cracks, the rough edges, the small imperfections—they all belong. These shards come together to form an image as unique as the moment I press the shutter.

These elements aren't always clear. Some are muted and almost invisible, others sharp and precise. But together—in every single shoot—they create a kaleidoscope that reflects the image of the person I see at that moment. It's not the image they have of themselves, but the image I discover within them.

I know that not everyone I photograph will recognize themselves in this image. Some may see themselves distorted or differently than they perceive themselves. That's part of it. It's the imperfections that reveal the true essence—the cracks and shards that make up the person. Because in the end, each of us is a broken mirror, imperfect and often different from how we see ourselves. It's these imperfections that make us interesting, that distinguish us as human beings.

I've also wondered why I photograph with such dedication, knowing that most people will never see my work. Even if I have tens of thousands of followers on social media, the vast majority of my images won't receive the attention of many times that number of non-followers. But somehow, that doesn't matter to me. The very act of photography, the gathering of these fragments, is how I come to better understand the world, people, and myself. Through the camera, I find a clarity that I don't always have in other aspects of my life.

Ultimately, no one I photograph will ever know how I see them. No one will understand why I captured this moment and not another. But that's okay. Because even when we see ourselves, we only see a part of ourselves—never the whole picture. And just as little will the image I create of them ever fully coincide with the one they have of themselves. The image they see is always only a part of the whole—the rest remains hidden in the broken mirror.