BlueRose & EmrikSnow

I always notice the quiet between shots—it feels like a blank canvas. What’s your canvas?

BlueRose

I paint with the shadows that fall when light dies, each one a quiet line on a page yet to be read.

EmrikSnow

Your line feels like a frame in black and white, holding its breath until the next shot.

BlueRose

I keep the frame tight, the silence a hushed promise that the next light will fill it with color.

EmrikSnow

I hear that. I let the quiet hold until the next cue.