La Grotta

Mediterranean is frida's quiet love letter to the southern coast — the part of summer you never quite manage to photograph because you're too busy being inside it. Shot on film over slow afternoons in Andalucía, Sicily and the Adriatic, the series moves at the pace of a long lunch and a longer swim. Cliffs the colour of dried apricot. Scrub that smells of pine and salt. The blue line where sea meets sky, never quite the same blue twice. People appear small, anonymous, mid-gesture — wading, lying flat, walking back from the water with towels over shoulders. No staged drama, no postcard sunsets. Just the heat sitting on your skin and the light slipping a little lower each minute. The palette runs through warm sand, ochre cliff, dusty olive, and a Mediterranean blue that holds its own register against the bleached sky. Grain stays present; the film does not pretend to be sharper than memory. Hung as a series, the frames build a private atlas of summers you may never have had — but recognise instantly. Each piece sits as comfortably alone as it does beside its siblings.