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Diner After the Show
Thank god there’s still a way to get some food, even at late night…
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Three of a Kind
Shot from street level, this image captures an everyday theatre performed quietly on a terrace. Three people — two women and one man — are held together by proximity but separated by gesture, expression, and posture. It’s a fleeting constellation of personalities, caught just before it disperses. I was struck by the triangular tension: the woman on the left, sporting a bicycle helmet and pursed lips, locked in on the man’s casual delivery. He stands as the pivot, mid-sentence, while the third figure leans away, hand on neck, visibly disengaged. The emotional distance between them expands far beyond the physical. Technically, the image relies on a crisp focus and compressed…
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Evolution of a Guitar Player
It’s strange how a decade can pass in the blink of an eye — and yet carry with it the weight of evolution. The last time I met Roberto Di Virgilio, he had a Steinberger in his hands: all sharp edges, carbon fibre, and the aura of the 1980s futurism that guitarists either loved or dismissed outright. Seeing him now, a Les Paul slung across his shoulder, feels almost like a chapter shift in a novel I didn’t realise I was still reading. The photograph was taken in the kind of setting that usually conspires against the photographer: a stage during setup, flat midday light filtered through the structure above,…
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The Calm Newsreader
Piazza del Duomo is never truly still. The stone expanse acts as both stage and thoroughfare, where the pace of life is measured in contrasts. In this pair of images, that tension is laid bare: a young woman, mid-stride, the blur of her step almost audible, shares the same visual field as a man in a red shirt who sits in unhurried contemplation, newspaper in hand. The composition in the first frame benefits from the deliberate use of foreground and background separation. The woman is caught in that decisive moment—foot lifted, eyes focused ahead—while the man remains anchored in his position, reading. The interplay between their postures tells a story…
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A Lost Towel
No one around. Just sun, sand, and something left behind. The beach was empty when I passed through—early or late, hard to say—but this towel was there, alone, crumpled and vivid. Its colours refused to blend in: yellows, reds, a printed image of something once meaningful, now half-folded by the wind. It didn’t look forgotten. It looked abandoned. What caught my eye more than the towel was what surrounded it: tyre marks, footprints, all criss-crossing paths layered into the sand. As if everyone passed by but no one stopped. It felt recent, but not urgent—like whoever left it didn’t mean to come back. The shot came together quickly. Low angle…
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Everything is ready for the service
… but the attendees
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The Smoke Teacher
