For every boon that Ernesto Bazan has received, he can point to a parallel moment where he gave to someone else. “I strongly believe that in life, the more you give, the more you get back,” the Sicilian-born photographer said. “There’s no doubt that that’s the way it should be.”

Ernesto Bazan was teaching a workshop in Brazil in 2013 when he received a call that his father, a surgeon and professor of medicine, had died in Sicily. He rushed home to Palermo, arriving just in time for the viewing, a powerful, if painful moment. Afterward, the body was cremated.

Now, in the final installment of his Cuba trilogy, he has published “Isla,” an ambitious collection of black-and-white panoramas that span genres from portrait and landscape to street photography and still lifes. Mind you, he sometimes accomplishes this in a single frame. While the panoramic camera he used forced him to step back a bit — unlike his up-close 35-millimeter street work — it nonetheless gave him a different intimacy.

Ernesto Bazan’s images of the Cuban countryside are remnants of a tropical dream — suffused with tenderness, color and a hint of mystery. You can almost touch the damp earth, where a freshly slaughtered pig lays near a puddle of blood, or smell the hand-rolled puros whose smoke hangs in the air like a milky veil.