Kalos
Drawing inspiration from the raw poetry of physical labour, KALOS is a celebration of masculinity. Each image captures a man caught in a moment of stillness. He stands, confident and composed—not performing a task, but becoming the task itself. The ancient Greek word kalos means beautiful, noble, ideal. In classical inscriptions, it was used to praise the physical form of young men, often with an erotic charge. In this series, that legacy is reimagined and reframed through the lens of industrial workwear and queer desire. Each image captures a man who is not only beautiful, but mythic—an object of longing, sculpted by blood, sweat, toil, and tears.
Despite their realism, these images are not photographs. They are portraits summoned from a digital dream machine. The men of KALOS are working-class heroes, manual workers—physical, dirty, and tired. They are fetishised in the truest sense: not just objects of desire, but vessels of power and fantasy. Their clothes are never clean. Everything is dirty, stained, and marked—dust, oil, emulsion. T-shirts cling to their bodies; overalls sag with use; hi-vis vests expose strong, muscular physiques. Every detail is forensic, from crusted paint to baggy trousers. These aren't costumes—they are artefacts of imagined labour, tools of seduction. The men wear them like a second skin. For the viewer, they evoke not just hard work, but also containment—the men are rough, and ready, but they're also being protected.
KALOS is not about action; it is about presence. The men do not smile. They do not speak. They're simply being themselves. There is an unspoken intimacy in the way each subject is captured. Their gaze is challenging, distant, sometimes inviting. The lighting is harsh. And yet, there is a softness beneath the surface: the suggestion of something tender beneath the sweat, something intimate beneath the grime. KALOS is a gay fantasy—fetishised, erotic, and specific—but it is also an invitation to ask questions, to find beauty in the slow burn of forbidden desire. The images explore the tender violence of wanting someone you can’t have—not because they’re far away, but because they’re unreachable, uninterested, or simply unattainable. It’s not just tension—it’s a kind of erotic despair, a silent torment dressed in filthy workwear.
"I want to be dirty, because being clean is too easy." — Jean Genet
