Why was invisible notes created?

I don’t like being a photography theorist. I’ve never been particularly interested in writing technical manuals or step-by-step guides on how to set up a camera. Those already exist, and anyone who wants them can find them easily.

What I was missing was something different. Something I hadn’t found anywhere else, at least until now — a place where someone talked about infrared photography not just as a technique, but as an experience. As a way of seeing the world. As a language.

So I opened this space. I called it Invisible Notes because that’s exactly what it is: notes. Not lessons. Not tutorials. Notes from a photographer who has been working for over twenty years with a light that eyes can’t see, and who still today, every time he opens a file on his computer, feels something he struggles to put into words.

THE PROBLEM I’VE SEEN REPEAT FOR YEARS

Anyone who works with infrared photography knows this. There’s a moment, almost inevitable, that keeps happening. You show a photo. The person looks at it. They’re quiet for a few seconds. Then they say one of two things.

The first: “Nice. Did you edit it a lot?”

The second, in its more direct form: “But you added these colors on the computer, right?”

I’ve answered this question thousands of times. At exhibitions, at presentations, in conversations in front of a print. And every time I’ve tried different words to explain that no, it’s not digital editing. That this light really exists. That the camera isn’t inventing anything.

Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. But over time I realized the problem wasn’t the answer I was giving — it was that there was no context. There was no place where these things were written down, thought through, explained calmly and without rushing.

WHY INFRARED IS SO HARD TO UNDERSTAND

Infrared photography is a wonderful and at the same time deeply counterintuitive art form. Not because it’s technically complicated — there are much more complex things in modern photography. But because it asks the viewer for something almost no other form of photography asks for: accepting that what they’re seeing is real even if it doesn’t match any visual experience they’ve ever had.

Black sky. White vegetation. Skin that looks like marble. Veins emerging beneath the surface. These are things the brain doesn’t recognize, even if the structure of the image is perfectly photographic. And when the brain doesn’t recognize something, the simplest answer is: someone changed something.

It’s an understandable mechanism. But it’s also why this type of photography remains misunderstood by a huge part of the public. Not from lack of interest — people are often curious, fascinated, even moved by these images. But they don’t have the tools to understand what they’re looking at.

Invisible Notes was born partly for this reason. To give those tools to anyone who wants them.

A DIARY, NOT A MANUAL

I want to make one thing clear. This is not a technical blog in the traditional sense. You won’t find comparison tables of sensors or discussions about the best filters to buy here.

What I want to build is something closer to a diary. A place where I talk about how I see this invisible world, after more than fifty years of photography and over twenty spent working specifically with infrared. Where I share the thoughts that come to me while looking at my photos or others’. Where I try to explain not just the how, but mostly the why.

Why certain infrared images create confusion. Why this light can bring out something intimate in people. Why for me shooting in infrared has always been something that goes beyond technique — something that has to do with the invisible in a broader sense. With emotions you can’t see. With things that exist but we don’t know how to show.

WHO IT’S FOR

Anyone who’s curious. The photographer who has heard about infrared and doesn’t know where to start. Someone who has already tried it and wants to understand more. Someone who has never taken a photo in their life but stopped in front of one of these images wondering what they were looking at.

You don’t need any particular knowledge to read what I write here. You just need to be willing to look at the world a little differently than you always have.

Which is, after all, the only thing I’ve ever asked of my photographs as well.

ONE LAST THING

Invisible Notes is an open space. If reading these articles brings up questions, curiosity, doubts — write to me. If you have experiences with infrared photography you want to share — write to me. If you’ve seen one of my photos and can’t figure out what you’re looking at — write to me.

I’ve spent over twenty years trying to find the right words to explain this invisible light. I’m not done yet. But in the meantime, I’ve started writing them.

And that’s already a beginning.