A Fountain

I made this photograph in a small corner where a public fountain once served a purpose. Now it stands fenced in by corrugated metal sheeting, isolated, its basin removed, its function suspended. The graffiti—“un po’ di panna”—is not aggressive. It reads more like a private joke left in public space, a whisper rather than a shout. That small phrase is what drew my eye first. It adds a voice to an object that has otherwise been silenced.

The metal barrier creates an accidental stage. Its vertical ridges repeat across the background, directing the gaze inward toward the fountain. The pink stone base, stained and unevenly worn, introduces texture and a trace of history. The colour contrast—blue-black column against warm foundation—feels almost deliberate, though of course it isn’t. This is the kind of palette that emerges when things are left to themselves.

Technically, the photograph handles light in a straightforward way. The scene was evenly lit, likely under a dull sky, so shadows are soft and there is no strong directional emphasis. I kept the exposure balanced to preserve detail in both the stone and the metal sheeting. The muted tones are accurate to the atmosphere of the place: neither lively nor particularly desolate. Just suspended.

Compositionally, the symmetry is slightly off, which is important. A perfectly centered, pristine frame would have suggested intention. Instead, the imperfections—tilted lines, uneven wear, small patches of debris—allow the image to remain grounded in reality. The eye stays with the fountain because everything around it recedes, not because the fountain demands attention.