What makes Burdeny’s Cuba series different from his other work is its interest in intimacy; it offers a rare close-up for Burdeny, whose work typically takes on a wide or distant vantage point. Rather than sweeping vistas, we see the wear and fatigue of these spaces in peeling paint, construction scaffolding, and cracks in the plaster; these are well-lived-in homes and public spaces, some of which are hundreds of years old, and Burdeny frames them as dwellings both used and cared for. But we also see vibrancy, in the light streaming through a window, the lime-gold glow of a well-stocked kitchen, and the intricate moulding along the high ceiling of a sparsely furnished bedroom. While most of the scenes in this series feature no people, their presence is felt in this atmospheric closeness. It’s as though Cuba, for Burdeny, could only be captured in this way, its living history of people just as powerful as its architecture. “Cities are like living organisms,” Burdeny has said of his travel photography, “they continuously evolve, grow, die and mutate. I’m interested in revealing the invisible features of these places.”