A Street-Skater

I came across him by the harbour on a day when the wind carried the smell of salt and diesel from the moored fishing boats. He wasn’t performing for an audience—just skating alone, immersed in his own rhythm. His movements were sharp but fluid, somewhere between dance and martial art. I wanted to capture that moment when the body leans into balance, teetering on the edge of a fall but never crossing it.

The setting presented an immediate visual contrast: the fluidity of his posture against the static, almost heavy backdrop of the docked ships. I framed him to the left, letting the background breathe, so that the masts, ropes, and the Italian flag provided a subtle sense of place. The tree on the right, almost like a stage wing, closes the composition and anchors it in a real street environment rather than an abstract performance space.

Technically, this was about timing and focus. The skater was in motion, but I wanted clarity on his form without freezing the life out of it. A moderately fast shutter speed kept the lines sharp but allowed just enough softness to suggest movement. Depth of field was shallow enough to separate him from the busy background, but not so much that the environment dissolved into anonymity—the fishing boats still needed to be recognisable.

The colours leaned naturally towards the muted—blues and greys of the harbour water, rust stains on hulls, the worn fabric of his clothes. I resisted the temptation to oversaturate, preferring to let the subdued palette match the understated nature of the scene.

For me, the photograph works because it’s not spectacle—it’s a quiet moment of self-expression, framed against a working harbour, where art and everyday life intersect without fanfare.