Wayne Welenc
- Anna Lilli Garai
- Apr 26
- 3 min read
Updated: 4 days ago
Wayne Welenc works with stillness. He shoots on film, usually in the early hours, when the light is low and everything feels slightly removed. Fog plays a big part in that. It strips detail, softens outlines, and gives space a kind of quiet tension. The scenes aren’t staged, but they feel deliberate—held in that space between clarity and uncertainty. A lot of his work comes from around his childhood home. He returns there often, not to recreate memories, but to keep circling something that still feels open. The landscapes are familiar but not specific. They hold personal weight without leaning on explanation.
His images feel quiet and present—open to interpretation without forcing anything.
Q: Your photos feel like they exist just before something happens—or just after. What draws you to that kind of in-between stillness?
A: There’s a moment of reflection in that in-between stillness. The world we live in is always in a rush, and sometimes I can’t keep up. I feel like we don’t get to pause even for a single moment. I try to capture the beauty of these very few times that we get to slow down and fully embrace the quietness.
Q: The fog in your work almost becomes a character. What does it let you say that clear light can’t?
A: The fog has that inherent dreamlike quality, which I find very entrancing. There’s an element of mystery and uncertainty. It makes the world look much more mystical. Clear light just doesn’t give me that sense of ambiguity.
Q: You shot "Roadkill" near your childhood home. How did returning to that place shift the way you saw it through the lens?
A: It’s such a significant place to me. My childhood home is actually my grandparents’ home as well, so it’s a place that I return to very often. It’s my safe haven. Growing up surrounded with nature has given me a vivid imagination and had a huge impact on my creativity. Getting to capture that place through my lens feels incredibly nostalgic.
Q: There's a deep quiet in your images. Are you chasing a specific kind of silence when you shoot?
A: I can only find that strange sense of tranquility early in the morning when the world isn’t quite awake yet. Shooting so early is kind of challenging because I’m not an early bird at all, but it’s always such a rewarding and freeing experience.
Q: You shoot film, which carries its own limitations and textures. What does film give you that digital never could?
A: Film has a soul. I love how unpredictable and demanding it can be. It encourages me to take my time and reflect before I shoot. Film has its own grainy imperfections and quirks, which make it incredibly unique. It allows me to capture the surreal aspects of nature in a way that feels authentic to me. Digital lacks that element of personality. It feels way too sterile in comparison.
Q: These landscapes feel both personal and anonymous. How much of yourself do you think ends up in each frame?
A: These places are very symbolic to me. They’re an indirect reflection of my own path. I find comfort in that otherworldly eeriness of these landscapes. They evoke a sense of peace in me despite their bleak and melancholic nature. I’ve always felt drawn to the desolate aspects of these spaces. Solitude is my natural state of being, and I feel like my pictures accurately represent that part of me.
