You feel it before you see it.
Crossed the line without knowing.
Crossed the line without knowing.
Past the turnstiles, through the hum of Hollywood Studios — laughter, music, crowds. Then it shifts. Sound drops. Colour drains. You're not in Florida anymore. Not even in Disney.
You're on Batuu.
On the edge of something older, edge of the galaxy.
On the edge of something older, edge of the galaxy.
14 acres — one of the largest single-themed lands Disney has ever built.
Blaster burns on walls. Droid tracks in the concrete. Pipes patched with spare parts. A market that hums with old power converters.
Blaster burns on walls. Droid tracks in the concrete. Pipes patched with spare parts. A market that hums with old power converters.
The Millennium Falcon sits dead centre, 110 feet of legend, not roped off or sanitised. You can shoot it wide under the harsh midday glare or go in tight on the scratches and mismatched panels — scars that tell you she's been through hell and kept flying.
Over 100,000 individual props and set pieces. Nothing polished, not posed, perfect for framing.
Over 100,000 individual props and set pieces. Nothing polished, not posed, perfect for framing.
Black-and-white photography works here. Every texture matters more: scratches in metal, cracks in walls. Contrast becomes the story. Highlights fight shadows for attention, and what wins is atmosphere and grit.
