You know that feeling you get when walking near a watery patch (the beach, a river, that flooded bit of land) snacking on something and you can feel a presence hanging somewhere above and, looking up, see a big old seagull tracking you, ready to dive-bomb your chips. So you walk a little faster, uncomfortable. Well that is the feeling photographer Rafael Halin’s images induce; that sense of knowing something is there or is about to happen but he has seen it first and has captured it moments before.
His photos are moody, slightly ominous, dark yet strangely beautiful. We are pulled into the atmosphere, we want to know what is going to happen. He is master of the ‘not quite revealed’ with images seeming to appear out of the mist, shifting between playing the watcher or catching him at work, showing the stranger moments of human behaviour. Are we unsettled by the woman illuminated by the suction-packed meat behind her in the supermarket, or the man wandering along the roof-top of a decrepit building, or just intrigued, curious to know what will happen next?
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