Photography was not born from technique alone.
It was born from alchemy, from hands that experiment, fail, mix, and discover.
It was born from curiosity.
From looking without knowing exactly what we are searching for.
And, above all, it was born from play.
Today, many psychological approaches remind us of something essential: when we stop playing, we stop exploring… and when we stop exploring, life loses its depth.
Play is not something childish; it is a way of being in the world—it is openness, flexibility, and presence.
As Donald Winnicott said:
“It is in playing and only in playing that the individual is able to be creative and to use the whole of their personality.”
That is why today I’m not proposing a technique, but an invitation to play with light.
Light is one of the great mysteries of the universe. It is energy, but also information—an invisible thread that connects what happens in one place with another.
Centuries ago, we learned to capture it, to let it tell us what it sees, and thus one of the most fascinating devices in history was born:
the camera obscura.
Long before cameras existed, this phenomenon was already known. Aristotle described it like this:
“Light is made to pass through a small hole in a closed room… and on the opposite wall, the image of what is in front will be formed.”
Light travels in a straight line, and when it passes through a small opening… it gives the world back to us. Inverted. Yet intact. Colour, shape, perspective. Everything is there. Like an upside-down video projection.