Blank Verse by Maria Siorba

SIGNED COPIES

Holding Blank Verse for the first time, you immediately sense that the book is built around experience rather than explanation. The images don’t simply present themselves; they arrive slowly, through shadow, texture, and the rhythm of turning pages. The matte paper draws the blacks deep into the surface, letting shapes blur and slip away, while the sudden appearance of colour on a thin, glossy sheet feels almost startling — like catching a reflection in water. The material choices make you aware of your own hands, of the weight and fragility of each page, and this physical involvement becomes part of the reading.

Siorba refuses to clarify what connects these scenes, but something does. Objects, landscapes, and bodies seem to share a quiet charge, as if participating in the same hidden current. The book suggests an inner space where perception stretches beyond the factual, where intuition takes over and the familiar turns slightly uncanny. Instead of guiding us, it leaves room for personal interpretation, and that openness is part of its strength.

Blank Verse shows how a photobook can create a world that isn’t dependent on narrative or text, but on pacing, touch, and atmosphere. It’s a subtle work, attentive and carefully constructed, and it rewards anyone willing to spend time with it. After closing the cover, the images linger — not as pictures, but as sensations.