ANGEL FUX

Ice caves from Switzerland

Séquence. A complex composite built from three distinct phases of a single night. Last September, the lunar eclipse reached totality at the exact moment of sunset. I wanted to honour that rare overlap by constructing a frame that moves through time from left to right: blue hour and nautical twilight on one end, full moon night on the other, with the eclipse itself woven through the middle. The light conditions made this one of the more challenging compositions I’ve worked on. Harsh moonlight, vastly different exposures, and a landscape that needed to feel continuous despite being captured across hours. It’s a creative interpretation as much as a documentary one. This image is also a testing ground. I’ve been pushing into new blending techniques and methodologies in preparation for a larger project later this year. Séquence is where some of that work begins.

A selection of rare celestial events

MIRROR “Dear friend, I’m writing to you while I can, while I’m here. I’m only passing, my time is brief, and I know yours is too. But since our orbits cross for a moment, let me leave you these words. Some encounters will shift your path entirely. Don’t be afraid when they do. You’ll change along the way, and that too is part of it. You were never meant to remain the same. Stillness was never your nature. There will be moments when you feel alone, when no one quite understands you. Loneliness will try to convince you to fade into others’ light. But remember, just because you shine in a different colour doesn’t mean you should dim it to match others’. In a way, I see myself in you. We both burn for a moment, then move on, leaving a faint trail behind. It isn’t a tragedy. It’s simply the way of things. Keep moving. Forward, always. Yours for a brief moment in time, Lem(m)on” Technical note: This image is a focal-length blend. The comet was captured at 200 mm, tracked and stacked, to preserve its delicate structure and tail. The star field behind it was photographed separately at a wider angle, also tracked and stacked for depth and clarity. The landscape itself was taken during the nautical hour before sunrise, as a stitched panorama. The location was carefully chosen for its alignment with the comet’s path; in the final composition, the comet was shifted slightly to the left from its original position to mirror the real-life alignment visible from the site in comparison to the big Dipper.

La vie en rose

Flesh and Blood This image was created on a solitary night at the top of a mountain in Switzerland, a place I had only visited in winter before. This time I was able to climb all the way up during the night of the last lunar eclipse we witnessed in Europe. At first the conditions didn’t look promising. Clouds were moving in quickly, and it seemed the moon might stay hidden. For a brief moment though, it slipped out from behind the veil, glowing red before disappearing again into the clouds for the rest of the night. By morning, the sky was fully closed in. It felt like a lucky strike. The image is a composite of several images, each captured at a particular time. The landscape and myself standing on the ridge were photographed in the night, while the eclipsed moon was taken just after sunset, when the sky was still dark enough to hold detail in the stars and the shifting clouds. I named the work Flesh and Blood because the phrase speaks to the human condition: our physical bodies, fragile and temporary, and the emotions that define our experience. The blood moon itself lasted only minutes, soon swallowed by weather and darkness. That ephemerality, in both the landscape and in ourselves, is what I wanted to hold onto in this image.

@deeperflows 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Guiding Light I know many fear me, and you have too. I don’t blame you, It is easier to turn away than to linger where every shadow belongs to you. You have heard stories about me, ugly ones, passed from mouth to mouth, until they became easier to believe than the truth. Yet, you never stopped to ask if they were mine to own. I have learned that those who despise me are often running from their own reflection. It is not me they hate, but the shadows they carry. Yet those who have stayed, who let me surround them without resistance, discovered in the stillness a light so gentle it’s easy to miss, yet so true it can never fade. Many will still say I unsettle them. They will say I trap them, press them into corners with no escape but inward. Face me without turning away, and you’ll see I was never here to fight. I was only ever leading you toward your guiding light. - Confessions of Darkness Composite made from two different trips in northern Norway, one in spring (night sky) and one in summer (landscape). This allowed me to create a surrealistic nightscape from a very bright and colourful night sky.

@SpaceBiz1 No problem if properly credited!

@angelfux_ Hello! Great shot 😍 May we please include it in our article “Best Photos of the Week” on Orbital Today, crediting it to you?

Life in Colour We’re taught that darkness is something to fear. But have you ever truly experienced it—real darkness? The kind that awakens all your senses. So intense it can feel overwhelming. So quiet it’s loud, so dark it blinds. It reveals a world we rarely see. A world where darkness doesn’t mean absence, but presence. Where even without the moon, the night sky glows—so brightly, so beautifully, it can move you to tears. That was my realisation the first time I witnessed it. True darkness is not the opposite of light—it is what allows us to see it. The light of stars. Of galaxies. The light that has always been there, long before us. And once you see it, you carry it with you. A quiet longing, a deep remembering. And a sadness too—for how much of it we keep losing to artificial light. I wish for everyone to experience true darkness. To understand why it’s worth protecting. To realise that night is not just black— But a life in colour.

@kthegroove Thank you Koray 🙏🏻

@angelfux_ Mesmerizing fren

Something's been growing quietly in the background. A project that's part dream, part puzzle. Far from anywhere familiar. Unseen by most. Uncaptured by almost everyone. It's the kind of place that takes months-maybe years-to get right. But the first steps are already underway. Research. Routes. Timing. Maybe even a first visit this year.

@0xLeonMontana Yes, but rather than a composite it’s a time blend!

@angelfux_ aaah i see and you waited the night to make a composite later?

The rare double Milky Way arch, only possible to capture once a year at certain latitudes. This is a time blend, with the winter Milky Way on the right shot after sunset and the summer Milky Way on the left shot right before sunrise.

@0xLeonMontana It’s the same MW but one shows the outer arm and the other shows the core!

@angelfux_ wow not even knew that there are two milky ways

“What is it that you’re looking for?” I want to witness the things few ever do—to experience them fully, down to the core. To become part of the landscapes, part of this world. To float among the stars and feel as though I’m bathing in their light. To see colours so vivid they linger in my dreams. To feel time pause in those fleeting moments. To absorb the beauty laid before me until it lives within me. To feel so deeply that I smile through the tears. I want to understand what it means to be whole. To grasp why pain is essential to the journey. To stand atop mountains—not to rise above, but to be nearer to immensity. To capture moments that cannot be relived, yet can still be felt. To remember what it means to be free. Wonder and awe in everything is what I am looking for. Ever since I learned that auroras can on rare occasions be seen in Switzerland, I’ve been searching for locations to create from—and this one was at the top of my list. On January 1st, Switzerland witnessed a rare SAR (Stable Auroral Red) arc. The event came on short notice, and I couldn’t reach this spot in time, so I captured the sky and landscape on different nights, three months apart. The aurora had been sitting on my computer, waiting for the right foreground to complete it. This image leans more toward the artistic than the realistic—intentionally so. I wanted it to feel like a dream: as if you’re floating through the landscape, seeing colours you’d never expect to find in the night. A surreal setting to let such a rare phenomenon truly breathe and shine.

@deeperflows Thank you so much 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

“Is it a blessing or a curse to feel everything so deeply?” A question I often wrestle with. To move through life with such intensity, where every emotion is amplified, where joy feels like an electric current and sorrow an unbearable weight—does this depth bring clarity or only exhaustion? If art is a vessel for feeling, a way to translate the intangible into something seen, something felt, then perhaps this intensity is a gift. But at what cost? To feel deeply is to be exposed, to be vulnerable to both wonder and despair. It means carrying beauty in one hand and ache in the other, never quite able to put either down. It is the weight of nostalgia for a moment still unfolding, the ache of love that burns as fiercely as it heals. Is this depth necessary for creation, for connection? Does it make art more honest, more resonant? Or does it simply make existence heavier? I wonder.

@0xLeonMontana Thank you! That was so much fun!

@angelfux_ Impressive ANGEL! =) i watched your helicopter flight must be fun too.

Clair de Lune Some moments come together effortlessly—when nature offers a fleeting opportunity, when experience allows an idea to take shape, when shared moments turn into new friendships. This night reminded me of where it all started. The first time I stepped inside an ice cave, the first winter night I spent outside. Things have changed since then, and I’m glad they did. Photography has become more than just documenting what’s in front of me—it’s a way to explore, to create, and to connect with myself and people in a way that feels more meaningful. The image you see here is the result of a collaborative effort. Manu from Eyes on Wildlife helped light up the cave from the back, bringing out the blues in the ice, while my friends Juergen and Martina helped me with my position and the direction of the headlamp. The stars were photographed before midnight, the moon a few hours later. A quiet, beautiful night, and one of my favorite moonscapes so far. Nature has a way of bringing out the best in us. It shifts our perspective, making us a little more open, a little more patient and kind. Hope you like it.

Just came back from a new winter expedition to capture glaciers in the night. Can’t wait to share the results. Portrait captured by my friend Juergen in my favorite environment