Tag: material culture

Ancient Greek Coin, Head of Alexander II Zebina

A macro photograph of a 123 BC Greek coin by Alexander II Zebina captures its historical significance and texture. The artist avoids over-sharpening, choosing selective focus to highlight the coin’s surface. This work raises questions about ownership, memory, and our connection to time, ultimately transforming the coin into a philosophical exploration of history.

Close-up of a worn ancient Greek coin showing a raised portrait, resting on coarse black granular material.
A macro photograph of an ancient Greek coin with a portrait relief placed on a dark textured surface.

In this macro study from Chapter 6 of his Top 100 Journey, the photographer confronts an artifact that predates the medium of photography by over two millennia. The coin—a bronze piece from 123 BC bearing the portrait of Alexander II Zebina—becomes both subject and collaborator, its weathered surface telling stories that extend far beyond the frame. This single exposure, created for the 52 Frames challenge, demonstrates a mature understanding of how light and composition can resurrect history from oxidized metal.

The technical execution reveals deliberate restraint. Rather than employ focus stacking to render every millimeter sharp, he opts for a single capture that honors the coin’s irregular topography through selective focus. The shallow depth of field becomes a curatorial choice: not everything from antiquity needs to be preserved with clinical precision. Some details fade into soft ambiguity, much as memory itself blurs across centuries. The side lighting—achieved through what appears to be a carefully positioned single source—rakes across the relief, transforming corrosion patterns into a luminous bronze landscape. Highlights catch on the highest points of wear, creating a constellation of golden moments against near-black valleys of shadow.

The substrate selection proves equally thoughtful. Black granular material, possibly sand or volcanic rock, provides textural contrast while introducing delicate bokeh spheres that float in the background like suspended time. This environmental choice feels archaeological, suggesting the coin might have just emerged from excavation rather than from a flea market display case. The photographer resists any impulse toward nostalgic sepia or artificial aging effects; instead, he allows the genuine patina—two thousand years in the making—to provide all the historical gravitas the image requires.

What distinguishes this work within Chapter 6’s framework of ongoing exploration is its meditation on ownership and stewardship. The accompanying note reveals this coin represents “the oldest man-made thing I have ever owned,” yet the photograph itself seems to question that possessive relationship. Can anyone truly own such an object, or are we merely temporary custodians in an impossibly long chain of hands? The macro perspective literalizes this contemplation, bringing the viewer so close that individual crystals of corrosion become visible, each one a marker of time the photographer will never witness.

The portrait of Alexander II Zebina—barely discernible beneath centuries of oxidation—emerges as a ghost in metal, features obscured yet undeniably present. This parallel between photographic and numismatic portraiture feels intentional. Both mediums attempt to freeze time, to preserve likeness against entropy’s relentless work. The photograph succeeds where the coin has partially failed, capturing not just the object but the precise quality of light falling upon it on a specific day in 2025, creating a new historical layer atop the ancient one.

Within the photographer’s evolving practice, this image represents a turn toward material intimacy and temporal reflection. The macro lens becomes a tool for philosophical inquiry rather than mere magnification. By isolating this small artifact against darkness and bringing such focused attention to its corrupted beauty, he creates space for viewers to contemplate their own relationship with history, permanence, and the objects that outlive their makers by millennia.

Elkins Apple Spiced Liqueur: Vernacular Object as Subject

The photograph of Elkins Apple Spiced Liqueur exemplifies a blend of commercial product photography and fine art still life, using classical composition techniques. The arrangement of the bottle with apples and cinnamon sticks highlights flavor context while demonstrating technical skill in lighting and focus. The image showcases an accessible beauty in everyday items, merging artistic intent with commercial appeal.

Bottle of Elkins Apple Spiced Liqueur on a wooden surface with red apples and cinnamon sticks against a dark background.
Elkins Apple Spiced Liqueur is photographed with apples and cinnamon sticks in a studio still life.

This photograph demonstrates the photographer’s engagement with commercial product photography conventions while maintaining artistic intentionality characteristic of fine art still life practice. The composition centers on a bottle of Elkins Apple Spiced Liqueur from Estes Park, Colorado, flanked by red apples and cinnamon sticks—elements that function both as contextual reinforcement of the product’s flavor profile and as formal echoes of color and shape within the frame.

The arrangement follows classical still life principles: objects positioned on a weathered wooden surface against a dark, graduated background that moves from deep black to subtle illumination. This chiaroscuro approach recalls Dutch Golden Age painting traditions, where selective lighting carves form from darkness and imbues everyday objects with weight and presence. The bottle’s amber-red liquid becomes luminous against the void, while the apples emerge from shadow with enough detail to register their texture and mass without competing for primary focus.

Technically, the image reveals deliberate choices in equipment and lighting strategy. Shot with a Sony A7ii and 85mm f/1.8 lens, the photographer employs a focal length typically reserved for portraiture, which compresses space slightly and allows selective focus while maintaining natural perspective. The use of a Godox softbox combined with a secondary flash creates dimensional lighting—the main light source appears positioned to camera right, creating highlights on the bottle’s curved surface and label while the fill light softens shadows without eliminating them entirely. This two-light setup produces the polished yet natural quality that distinguishes professional product photography from amateur attempts.

The label itself becomes a compositional element worth examining. Its vintage-inspired design, complete with wheat motif and hand-drawn typography, speaks to contemporary craft distillery aesthetics that reference historical authenticity. The photographer allows this graphic element full legibility, understanding that typography and branding function as visual information within the frame. The cork cap with its branded sleeve adds vertical interest and completes the bottle’s narrative as an artisanal product.

Within Chapter 5’s spectrum from classic to experimental still life, this work occupies the classical end—a straightforward, beautifully executed product study that prioritizes clarity, atmosphere, and material fidelity over conceptual disruption. Yet the photographer’s decision to include this image in his top 100 suggests recognition that mastery of foundational approaches remains essential even as one pushes toward experimental territories. The work demonstrates technical competence: precise focus, appropriate depth of field, balanced exposure across a challenging tonal range, and color palette that feels both rich and naturalistic.

The supporting elements—grocery store apples and cinnamon sticks—ground the image in accessible reality rather than aspirational luxury. This democratic approach to sourcing props reflects contemporary still life practice that finds beauty in the everyday rather than the exotic. The wooden surface, likely the photographer’s own workspace, bears authentic wear that reads as character rather than distress.

Post-processing in Luminar 4 appears restrained, enhancing rather than transforming the captured scene. The final image possesses the polish of commercial work while retaining the considered composition and atmospheric quality that elevates it to fine art documentation of material culture and regional craft production.