It begins with Tristan.

In the frame, presence is quiet but impossible to ignore. Whether it’s in motion or still, he carries character — posture, poise, light mapping edges of jaw and silhouette. The kind of subject who transforms space just by stepping into it.

These aren’t just portraits. They’re threads of story: moments from events, cinematic pauses, couples in conversation, realness unfiltered by glamor. Tristan doesn’t demand attention. He earns it — in how he lets the lens breathe, in how he holds still, in how his gaze meets the quiet.

What lingers isn’t the sharpest contrast or brightest highlight — it’s how shadow drifts over skin, how light becomes form, how presence gets imprinted with subtlety. Tristan, seen not by what’s shown, but by what stays when the shutter falls.