There’s usually one or two things that pull me toward a new city to photograph. For Lisbon, it was the tram cars—and the caramel tones.
Most of my photos, especially from New York and Paris, lean toward cooler tones. New York gives you glass and shadows, that layered, steel-blue grit. Paris, especially in spring, often carries a moody chill in its light. I was craving something warmer—visually and emotionally.
Also, Anthony Bourdain’s episode of No Reservations in Lisbon nudged me toward finally booking the solo trip. A city that’s been rebuilt multiple times after devastating disasters (three times, if I remember correctly), Lisbon felt like a place with stories written right into the stone.
The moment I landed, I dropped my bags and hit the streets. Sleeping off jet lag at 10 a.m. never felt right anyway. And immediately, I felt at home. Once I stumbled onto the tram cars, I was hooked.
After a week of walking, exploring, and shooting intensely, the city started to unfold in layers—textured walls, sunlit glass, tile reflections, and that soft, amber light. Every turn brought something fresh. I kept getting pulled back in, again and again. And the seafood? Next level. The wine and port? Dangerous in the best way.
What struck me most was how the tones in my photos—straight out of the camera—already had that warm, buttery, almost caramel quality. It wasn’t something I had to chase or edit toward. It was just there.
Maybe it was the stretch of 75° and sunny days I lucked into, but Lisbon became one of the few places I’ve shot where I genuinely felt like I could stop trying so hard to make the “perfect photo” and just enjoy being there.
From the timeless tram cars rolling through narrow streets to the aging tiles and cathedral facades—Lisbon is a gift. Not just for street photography, but for living.
