The Truth in Black and White

There’s something disarmingly honest about black and white portraits. Without the distraction of colour, what’s left is essence — structure, soul, and silence.

In my work, I often feel that colour can seduce. It can beautify, even disguise. But black and white refuses to flatter — it confronts. It reveals the strength in a line, the fragility in a gaze, the story beneath the surface.

Every time I create a monochrome portrait, I’m reminded how little is actually needed to say a lot. A slight tilt of the head, a shadow across a cheek, the precise balance between light and void — that’s where truth lives.

For me, these portraits aren’t about nostalgia or minimalism. They’re about clarity. About stripping away everything that’s unnecessary until what remains feels… inevitable.

Maybe that’s why people respond to them so strongly. Because in a world saturated with filters, a pure, uncoloured moment feels radical — even intimate.

Black and white doesn’t shout. It whispers. But what it whispers is often unforgettable.