Evaggellia Raftopoulou

Evaggellia Raftopoulou’s photographs feel like stolen glances in a half-empty room—quiet, unguarded moments that linger just past the edge of your peripheral vision. She shoots her native Athens at the hour when the city exhales, catching the way sunlight slants across peeling walls or how a lone fig tree casts a lattice of shadows on cracked pavement. Her untitled series (2010–11) does this better than any tourist photo ever could. If you’ve ever stood in a Greek neighborhood at 6 p.m., you’ll recognize the mood.