This photo was taken from my work place window in October 2024. I happened to look out the window and noticed this beautiful sunset light and ran to get my camera right away from my desk. I Love deep contrasts and storytelling so I think this perfectly defines my style of photography.

A long and silent wait marks the days preceding the celebration of Saint Mary the Crowned of Carmel before everything melts into a riot of dances and songs. Pagani - Italy

Legend says that a painting of a Madonna buried beneath the earth was found by some hens scratching in a coop. The image is said to have performed eight miracles in a short time. It all began in 1609. In Pagani, a small town in south of Italy, seven days after Easter, people celebrate Saint Mary the Crowned of Carmel (commonly known as Our Lady of the Hens). It is both a religious and civil festivity.
The long wait for the Madonna marks the days preceding the celebration when the statue, covered with live birds, moves throughout the city streets and alleyways. It passes by shrines finely set with satin and lace. They are called toselli, symbols of maternity. This results in the tradition of every family giving hens or doves or turkeys to the church for this period, as a symbolic gift. The population participates animated by a strong faith until the day of the feast when everything melts into a riot of dances and songs.

For years, I have visited Belgium as a source of inspiration. Particularly, the old mining town of Charleroi (once unfairly labeled as the ugliest city in Europe) captured my heart. Its many scars reveal the city’s contrasting history, but I was especially drawn to its people—the Carolos, as they proudly call themselves.
The persistent prejudices about the city remained unconfirmed for me—quite the opposite, in fact. The residents, often portrayed as aggressive and dangerous, turned out to be warm, welcoming, and above all, proud. They gave me access to their personal lives without expectations or suspicion. I was amazed at how readily they allowed themselves to be photographed in their own ‘Pays Noir’.
Each time I returned to Charleroi, I sought out the people I had previously photographed to deliver their framed portraits to them. Their reactions were emotional and heartwarming. The Carolos felt seen, understood, and proud.
Charleroi is a city often misunderstood by those who pass by or through it, as they judge it solely based on what they see, failing to take the time to uncover the beauty hidden within. What one sees in another often says more about the observer than about the one who is—or isn’t—seen.
To me, the Carolos are the vibrant soul of the black land: Les Carolos, l'Âme du Pays Noir.