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Shadow On The Wall
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Mind The Step
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Inside The Clocktower
I made this photograph standing in the cramped, dusty heart of the clocktower, where the public face of time is reversed, fragmented, and framed by machinery. From here, the bold Roman numerals of the clock are a shadow-play against frosted glass, mirrored in a way that strips them of their usual authority. The word TREBINO—the maker’s mark—appears backwards, as if time itself had been flipped. The challenge in this shot was balance—both in composition and exposure. The brightly lit clock face risked blowing out entirely against the dim, oil-stained gears and pulleys in the foreground. I underexposed slightly to retain detail in the shadows, allowing the face to glow without…
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In Hoc Signo
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A Skull
I made this photograph in near darkness, peering through a narrow stone opening where a skull lay against the rough wall. The framing itself creates a sense of confinement: the viewer sees only what the aperture allows, a forced perspective that heightens the impact of the subject. The starkness of the skull, caught in dim light, is amplified by the deep shadows surrounding it. Technically, the image embraces its limitations. Low light produces grain and softness, yet these imperfections serve the atmosphere. The highlights on the skull’s surface are blown in places, but this uneven exposure adds to the sense of unease, as if the bone reflects light reluctantly. The…
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An Old Motorcade At Night
Photographing this scene with the Leica M9, I was conscious of wanting to hold the atmosphere of a summer night where history and spectacle meet. The procession of vintage cars is framed by a corridor of spectators, their attention divided between living the moment and documenting it through their phones. The motorcade moves away from me, which allows the viewer to share my vantage point — both a participant and an observer, close enough to feel the heat of the engines, yet outside the flow of the event. Compositionally, the perspective lines of the barriers guide the eye straight to the lead car, and further still down the illuminated street…
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The Driver
Shot on a Leica M9 during a vintage car rally, this image invites a quiet question: what exactly are we looking at here — the driver or the car? The frame is tightly composed, the perspective intimate. We sit directly behind the driver, almost in the passenger seat, with the blue cockpit wrapping around us like a suit of armour. The leather cap, the quilted racing jacket, the badge that reads FIAT — all signs of a time when racing still smelled of oil and cotton rather than carbon fibre and digital telemetry. But the face is hidden. There’s no expression, no glance, no story told in eyes or brow. The driver…
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Lightspeed
I shot this with a Leica M9 late one night, leaning out from the kerb on a curve that begged for something fast and unreasonable to come tearing through it. And eventually, this red Italian masterpiece did exactly that—roaring past with the kind of throaty snarl that makes small children cry and grown men buy things they shouldn’t. What you’re seeing isn’t an accident. It’s the moment velocity became geometry. The long exposure distorts everything into kinetic abstraction: the trees become green flame, the streetlamps twist into electric comets, the background collapses into a wash of speed-induced delirium. But the car—mid-century, low-slung, all attitude—remains just visible enough to read as…
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The Stare of a T800
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Who The Hell Killed the Light Off?
There’s a certain magic to photographing night-time events — the glow of street lamps, the hum of a crowd, the way artificial light sculpts a scene. But it also comes with its share of battles, and this image is a perfect example of working on the edge of what’s technically possible. The scene is rich in story: a vintage race car, its scarlet paint dulled slightly under the sodium and LED mix of city lights; two men in matching white overalls, one bending towards the vehicle’s front as if inspecting or coaxing it to life; a small crowd leaning over barriers, caught in their own observations. The moment feels candid…
