"BETWEEN THE LINES“ by BEA BERG
More than ever we are flooded by information and images. We are struggling to understand and recognize the world we love.
In these times, it’s up to us to read between the lines, to notice the subtleties and to glimpse the importance of the little things we nearly forgot. These small details allow us to breath. They show us that we are still surrounded by beauty, magic and poetry.
We are invited to breathe in and immerse into an inner dialogue, which allows us to get out of our overstimulated complex everyday’s life and to focus on the essential. This process of abstraction offers us moments of serenity, balance and contemplation.”
Bea’s artistic approach reflects a fascination for clear and simple compositions, sober forms and bright spaces influenced by her career as an architect. Fallen under the spell of photography and minimalist art, she attempts to concentrate the main subject to its minimum, the essence. It can evoke emotions which are both fundamental and universal.
Geometric or organic lines and shapes visible in landscapes, sometimes floral motifs or portraits are combined and form the composition. A subtle interplay of abstract and concrete elements reveals the subject only upon a closer inspection.
"Lives in the Shadow of Migration“ by Habip Koçak
The southern regions of Turkey have witnessed one of the largest migration waves in recent decades. Thousands fled cities destroyed by war, crossing the border in search of safety. They carried little with them—perhaps a few belongings, a photograph, or a child’s toy. What they left behind were not only their homes, but their memories, families, and roots.
Arriving in a new country was both salvation and struggle. Tent camps, makeshift shelters, crowded settlements—these became their new reality. “At least there is no fear of death,” many would say. That simple sentence reveals the deepest scar of war: survival itself becomes the only measure of hope.
Life in the camps was a battle against every season. The searing heat of summer and the freezing cold of winter pierced easily through thin tent walls. Electricity was often absent. Water had to be carried long distances. Children played on dusty ground, sometimes surviving on just one meal a day. And yet, they laughed. Play became their greatest act of resistance.
Men spent long hours working wherever they could—in construction, in fields, in markets. The wages were low, the labor harsh, but there was no alternative. Children needed food, medicines had to be bought. Women not only kept the home but also joined the labor force when needed, all while caring for the young.
Migration was not just a change of place—it was a test of identity. To be “a foreigner” in a country whose language and culture you did not know meant an even deeper loneliness. Many children were deprived of schooling; those who did attend often struggled with language barriers, leaving them at a disadvantage.
Still, migrants found ways to hold on to life. Teapots boiling in front of tents, children turning plastic bottles into toys, mothers sewing clothes by hand—these were signs that life could be rebuilt. Communities formed their own networks of solidarity, helping each other when illness or hardship struck.
Over time, some families left the camps and moved into towns. They rented run-down houses, worked as unskilled laborers. It was a step out of invisibility, an attempt to belong. But it also brought prejudice and discrimination. Children struggled in schools, women faced barriers to employment, men were forced to accept low pay.
Migration did not only reshape the lives of those who fled; it also transformed the host society. In the streets of southern cities, Arabic signs appeared, new food aromas filled the air, and migrant-run shops became part of the landscape. Diversity enriched culture but also stirred tensions over shared resources.
Today, thousands still live in tent camps. Some have been there for years, their lives frozen in a sense of impermanence. And yet they continue to live, to feed their children, to search for work, to hope. Hope may be the only thing left unbroken among the ruins of homes and shattered lives.
The story of migrants is, in truth, the story of humanity. Any of us could one day become migrants—because of war, climate change, or economic collapse. The desire to belong, to put down roots, is universal. That is why we should see migrants not only as “foreigners” but as possible reflections of ourselves. In their children’s laughter we can recognize our own, in the fatigue of their mothers our own mothers, and in the darkness of their tents our own fears. Because the story of migrants is not theirs alone—it is the story of us all.
"With or without“by Maria Jorge Soares
In the world we live in and during the various stages throughout life, it is difficult not to
feel influences.
As far as my inspirations are concerned, they can come from literature, painting, music
and in specific case of the photography, I have always been fascinated by
photographers, not only classic but also contemporary.
In 2017, I decided to created my Instagram account and since then I have been
receiving very positive feedback, which actually helps me grow and evolve.
A curious thing is that sometimes people tell me "your photo reminds me of that
photographer…”, although sometimes I know him, other times I don't .
I chose this photo because it reminds me of Bresson's “decisive moment”.
In this photo, I tried to ensure that the form and content harmonize in its composition.
I have no degree in this Art. I’m simply an amateur.
This reminds me of a story that happened a few years ago. One day I was in an art
gallery and came across the works of a promising young man.
By chance, this young man was at the gallery, and we chatted for quite some time.
A few years had passed since that conversation, and I returned to the gallery and
asked about the artist's future.
They told me that he was having a lot of success and that he had been advised not to
go to the University of Fine Arts. Curious, I asked why, and they replied "because that
would alter his unique creative capacity;
I confess that such an answer remained etched in my memory. It was like about
preserving the primal imagination, creative process, not depriving it of certain
influences…
With a master degree in fine arts or not, whether it is right or not is up to the reader to
think about.
Porto – 10/09/2025
„You Were Talking About Your Dreams“by Agnes Burger
Fleeting moments, full of poignancy, people passing by on their way, lost in thought, lost in their own rhythm of life. Lost in light and shadow. „You Were Talking About Your Dreams“ is a small excerpt from these fleeting little moments...full of light, shadows, and colors...Traveling through many cities in this world I found a place, where the abstract street photography kind of amazed my visual attention. Istanbul, the Galata Bridge. A place that invites you to linger longer and simply be invisible for a few moments...be very close united with this rhythm of the street. And listen to the whispering of the people passing by…Like a dreamland….Just one moment...but miles away…
The metric of creativity segundo AR by Álvaro Rosendo
(PT)
A métrica da criatividade (segundo AR)
Começo por chamar a atenção para fatores de interferência: quando a fotografia entrou na lista dos meus interesses, logo foi necessário calcular as reais possibilidades de a utilizar.
Nesses dias, Portugal não tinha uma política de impostos sobre o comércio dos artefactos fotográficos muito favorável. Antes pelo contrário, o Imposto sobre a Transação – como então se nomeava o Imposto sobre o Valor Acrescentado – tinha uma especial Taxa de Luxo que encarecia brutalmente a atividade e remetia a tão propalada “fotografia popular” para uso escasso e muito controlado – casamentos, férias ou outros eventos, “raros” nas nossas vidas. Claro que havia uma classe abastada que se dava ao “Luxo” e a nossa “História” da fotografia encerra quase exclusivamente nomes de “boas” famílias e “distintas” origens.
Aqui revelo que um amigo me emprestou uma belíssima câmera fotográfica até conseguir a minha própria, por isso alguns “rolos” não decretaram uma imediata falência. Mas – e isto é muitíssimo importante – muito poucas imagens deixaram a sua mera existência em negativo minúsculo e se tornaram “ampliações” em papel.
A segunda revelação é que outro amigo, ligado ao comércio da fotografia, talvez impressionado pela minha vontade, facilitou-me o consumo dos materiais.
Instaladas então estas possibilidades há que contar, também, que a proximidade da travessia de um período obscurantista – o célebre “antes” do 25 de Abril – não me forneceu as ferramentas, ou as influências e inspirações que podiam, desde cedo, educar a minha criatividade. Por isso, tudo surgiu num ímpeto, numa descoberta “instantânea”.
Então, com a minha “fotografia” a acontecer conheci Henri Cartier-Bresson de quem bebi a harmonia da composição e a clareza narrativa, Duane Michals que legitimou fotograficamente a minha relação com a banda desenhada e muito especialmente Pennie Smith que imortalizou o seu trabalho numa capa dos The Clash (“London Calling”) e me abriu o mundo da reportagem afetiva. Pouco depois, numa fotografia que “tirei” no casamento de uns amigos, “registei” o Amor que me inspirou para o resto da vida.»
(EN)
The metric of creativity (according to AR)
I will start by drawing attention to some interfering factors: when photography entered my list of interests, I immediately had to calculate the real possibilities of using it.
In those days, Portugal did not have a very favorable tax policy on the trade of photographic artefacts. On the contrary, the Transaction Tax – as Value Added Tax was then called – had a special Luxury Tax that brutally increased the cost of the activity and relegated the much-vaunted “popular photography” to scarce and highly controlled use – weddings, holidays or other events, “rare” in our lives. Of course, there was a wealthy class that gave itself to “luxury” and our “history” of photography almost exclusively includes names of “good” families and “distinguished” origins.
Here I reveal that a friend lent me a beautiful camera until I could get my own, so a few “rolls” did not immediately lead to bankruptcy. But – and this is very important – very few images left their mere existence as a tiny negative and became “enlargements” on paper.
The second revelation is that another friend, linked to the photography business, perhaps impressed by my desire, made it easier for me to consume the materials.
Once these possibilities were established, it must also be said that the proximity of the passage of an obscurantist period – the famous “before” the 25th of April – did not provide me with the tools, or the influences and inspirations that could, from an early age, educate my creativity. Therefore, everything came about in an impulse, in an “instant” discovery.
Then, with my "photography" taking shape, I met Cartier-Bresson, from whom I drew compositional harmony and narrative clarity, Duane Michals, who photographically legitimized my relationship with comics, and most especially Pennie Smith, who immortalized her work on a The Clash cover ("London Calling") and opened the world of emotional reporting to me. Shortly thereafter, in a photograph I "took" at a friend's wedding, I "recorded" the Love that inspired me for the rest of my life.