FCS-PH-0002
Paris After Rain
A rain-soaked Paris street becomes a meditation on peace, memory, and the meanings photographs acquire over time.
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Photography Exhibition
Reflections
Images that invite contemplation.
FCS-PH-0004
The Keeper of Paris
A silent statue overlooking Paris becomes the visible guardian of a memory whose most important presence remained just outside the frame.
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FCS-PH-0011
Reflections of a Soul
Human eyes appear within an inverted drinking glass, transforming two photographs made at different times and places into a meditation on memory, presence, and the emotional traces people leave behind.
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FCS-PH-0019
The Shadow I Left Behind
A self-portrait created through shadow becomes a meditation on identity, memory, and the distance between the person once photographed and the person looking back years later.
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FCS-PH-0030
The Photographer's Reflection
A polished sphere on a hotel balcony reflects Granada, the evening light, surrounding architecture, and the photographer himself, turning an unexpected discovery into a portrait of observation.
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FCS-PH-0034
Where Thoughts Come to Rest
A man sits alone at a neighborhood restaurant in Palermo, Buenos Aires, absorbed in a private moment. Photographed discreetly in July 2009 while Francisco Colón was living in the city, the image observes solitude without attempting to explain it.
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FCS-PH-0036
Still Beautiful
A spontaneous panoramic landscape made along the road from San Juan toward Lares becomes, years later, a meditation on imperfection, memory, and the persistence of beauty.
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FCS-PH-0058
The Home I Drew at Eighteen
Repeating arches frame a tropical courtyard inside a hotel in Cartagena, Colombia, where warm architecture, palms, and quiet walkways create a place of shelter and reflection. Photographed during a business trip, the scene recalled a home imagined and drawn by the artist at eighteen—a home that also contained arches. What began as temporary accommodation became an encounter with an architectural memory carried across decades.
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FCS-PH-0059
The Gentleman I Wasn’t Looking For
A small stenciled gentleman in a top hat steadies himself between a walking cane and an expansive weathered wall in Paris. Surrounded by stains, scratches, and negative space, the anonymous figure appears unexpectedly human despite his simple painted form. Discovered casually while walking through the city, he transforms an ordinary wall into a quiet meditation on age, endurance, and vulnerability.
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FCS-PH-0073
Where I Left My Hat
While living in Mexico City, I picked up my camera one quiet afternoon and began photographing ordinary things around my apartment. My hat, hanging where I had left it, caught my attention because of the contrast between its warm woven texture, the dark lamps, and the surrounding green foliage. Nothing in the scene was arranged for the photograph. It was simply an everyday corner of my home that, for a moment, became something worth noticing.
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FCS-PH-0080
Misma llave, misma puerta
Beyond the darkened resort, the Caribbean meets the first light of morning. A narrow line of orange divides the sea from a sky still holding the night, while the illuminated pool below glows electric blue. Made during a few private days in Cancún, the photograph became connected to Misma llave, misma puerta—not simply as a record of a place, but as the atmosphere surrounding a memory.
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FCS-PH-0082
Between the Curtains, Rio
Made from a room at the Sheraton Hotel in Rio de Janeiro, this January 2003 photograph records a morning deliberately anticipated. Dark curtains narrow the view to a sunrise emerging over the Atlantic, while the surrounding glass and interior panels repeat traces of the changing light. The balcony door had been left open overnight, with the curtains resting much as they appear in the photograph. Rising early specifically to experience the sunrise, the photographer found the moment worth the effort—the quiet room becoming both shelter and viewpoint as morning arrived over Rio.
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FCS-PH-0108
Where the Light Stops
A stained-glass lamp casts a warm circle of light across a corner of the artist’s home, illuminating objects gathered from different chapters of his life. Above it hangs a self-portrait made shortly before his forty-seventh birthday, with his body turned away from a doorway. Beneath it, a sculpture purchased in 1997 preserves the memory of a lost love, while smaller photographs hold his daughter’s first steps and a family wedding. A second family portrait remains deliberately in shadow, acknowledging how death, distance, and circumstance can alter those once pictured together. Through its balance of warmth and darkness, Where the Light Stops considers memory, fractured belonging, and the uneasy feeling of being home without ever feeling completely settled.
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FCS-PH-0134
A Place to Remember
Early one morning in Plaza General San Martín in Buenos Aires, Francisco Colón photographed an open section of the park after rain. Wet pavement stretches beneath the canopy of a massive tree, while a solitary bench rests near the balustrade overlooking the lower reaches of Retiro. The tree, bench, pavement, and surrounding landscape are important elements, but none is individually the subject. The subject is the space itself—a place Colón repeatedly returned to during visits to Buenos Aires, not for its landmarks or history, but for the quiet experience of simply being there.
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FCS-PH-0135
On This Side of the Glass
From the warm interior of a hotel in Buenos Aires, Francisco Colón looks through a wall of glass toward a rain-soaked city street. Tables, upholstered chairs, curtains, and amber light occupy one side of the window, while wet pavement, traffic, pedestrians, architecture, and red traffic signals occupy the other. The glass allows both environments to exist within the same view while keeping them physically apart. Years later, the photograph acquired another dimension for Colón. The glass remains the visible barrier within the image, but time has become the barrier between the photographer and the familiar room he now wishes he could occupy again.
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FCS-PH-0137
The Picture That Stayed
Photographed from New York Harbor in 2015, The Picture That Stayed records the Statue of Liberty against the fading colors of an evening sky. For Francisco Colón, however, the photograph reaches much farther back than the moment of exposure. His relationship with Liberty began in 1976, when a seventh-grade art teacher unexpectedly asked him to enlarge a small image of the statue into a drawing approximately the size of a door. Nearly four decades later, traveling through New York Harbor with his daughter, Colón finally encountered the figure he had studied so carefully as a boy and made a picture of her for himself.
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FCS-PH-0141
The Car That Takes Me Back
A yellow Volkswagen Beetle parked along a street in Old San Juan became an immediate connection to another time in Francisco Colón's life. Colón had owned two Volkswagen Beetles, beginning with his first car at Fort Knox in 1983 and followed by a 1973 Beetle while living in Darmstadt, Germany. That second car became part of the story surrounding the birth of his daughter. Encountering another Beetle decades later in Puerto Rico brought those memories immediately back.
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