Rendy Mahardhika
-
Familiar Absence
Amid decay and forgotten space, the water still held the sky—clear and unbothered. I didn’t try to edit what was there. The dirt, the stillness, the quiet reflection—it all felt honest. Some places don’t need to be restored; they just need to be noticed.
-
Beneath What Shines
The way the sun threaded through the trees and laid itself gently on the path didn’t demand to be seen; it allowed itself to be felt. Some places don’t ask you to arrive. They appear, briefly, and if you’re quiet enough, you might witness them before they disappear again.
-
Trace Without a Strike
I saw the shadow before the branch—like lightning without a storm. It felt like something had just happened. The light moved louder than the object, as if the gesture came first. Sometimes, the shadow speaks before its source—and we feel things before we understand them.
-
The Rush Was Pink
A streak of pink against subway gray—unfocused, but unforgettable. I didn’t follow the figure, only the contrast. And maybe that’s how I remember New York: not by what stood still, but what passed through before I could name it. Some moments blur. Others stay etched.
-
Overstimulation
New York didn’t ask me to belong—just to keep up. I took this photo mid-drift, somewhere between noise and numbness. I didn’t see the figure clearly then. But later, it looked like me. Blurry. Tilted. Not lost—just overwhelmed, and still moving through it.
