Ashtray

The scene was quiet, almost too still for such a monumental location. From the balcony of the Court of Cassation, Rome’s ornate facade stretched before me, its stonework carved with faces that have watched over decades of political and judicial tides. And yet, in the foreground, resting on a cracked, timeworn surface, sat a simple glass ashtray. The juxtaposition was almost absurd—this object of everyday habit placed against the backdrop of one of Italy’s most imposing institutions.

Framing the shot, I wanted to preserve that contrast. The ashtray dominates the foreground, crisp in focus, while the grand entrance behind it softens into blur. This use of shallow depth of field was deliberate, forcing the eye to settle first on the mundane before letting the gaze wander toward the ceremonial. In compositional terms, the photograph is almost split in two—the tactile, cracked stone leading to the smooth symmetry of the arch.

Technically, the high contrast worked in my favour, accentuating both the gritty texture of the balcony and the pale tonality of the facade. The exposure leaned toward the highlights to avoid losing the architectural details, though this meant some of the shadow depth in the ashtray was sacrificed. It’s a trade-off I accepted, as the balance between detail and tonal harmony felt more important here than deep blacks.

In the end, it’s a photograph that exists between grandeur and ordinariness—two worlds in one frame, each revealing something about the other.