Breath of Ice

In winter, Baikal does not simply freeze — it breathes. Even what looks perfectly still is under tension every second: the ice cracks, shifts, expands, and tightens again — sometimes with a sound like a gunshot. This series was shot across several winters, up close and from afar, in still light and in storm — an attempt to see that breathing at every scale it takes. From a lake holding a fifth of the planet's fresh water, to a fracture the width of a hair. From the silence of reflected sunset light to the sound of ice breaking underfoot. There is form here, and there is texture; there is a human figure caught inside that scale, and there is pure abstraction, where the ice stops being recognizable and becomes only light and line. Each frame looks at Baikal differently — but behind all of them is the same rhythm: inhale and exhale, tension and rest.