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Portrait of a Law Professor (and Free Climber…)
Some portraits speak as much through their surroundings as through the subject’s face. This image—shot on T-Max 400—was conceived to be less about formality and more about quiet juxtapositions. The professor, sharply dressed in a waistcoat and tie, sits in an office that is anything but stiff: behind him, a large photograph of a free climber grips the rock face with raw, physical intensity. The contrast is the story. The academic’s world is one of precision, argument, and interpretation of law; the climber’s, one of risk, strength, and moment-to-moment survival. And yet, the connection between the two is more than decorative. This professor is himself a climber—an individual who understands…
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Portrait of a Gunsmith
No bravado. No noise. Just focus. This is not a scene from a film. It’s a portrait of a gunsmith — hands steady, brow drawn in close. The room is small, functional, the shelves stacked. There’s no display of violence here. No suggestion of power. Only the patient act of tuning metal into balance. He’s wearing gloves, not out of fear, but out of respect — for the tool, for the work, for the ritual. The gun isn’t loaded. It isn’t posed. It’s an object in process. A mechanism being read, understood, maintained. I took this photo in near silence. The only sound was the faint click of a slide…
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An Old Boxing Gym
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Last Puff Before the Ride
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Busy
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Earbuds
A man crosses the street in mid-stride, headphones enclosing him in his own private world. Behind him, a line of people stands at the tram stop, their stillness a counterpoint to his movement. The tram, painted in tired colours, seems almost fixed in place, its presence dwarfed by the weathered façade of the building above. The sign EgyptAir—faded, peeling—hangs over the scene like an echo from another time, hinting at journeys and destinations that have little to do with this grey urban moment. The building’s windows are uneven in tone, some dark, some reflecting a pale sky, all framed by streaks of wear from decades of weather. What draws the eye…
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A Vessel
I’ve always found that photographing boats is an exercise in balance—between structure and fluidity, between the hard geometry of rigging and the soft, shifting water beneath. This image leans into that duality beautifully. The yacht sits clean and confident in the frame, its hull catching the light in a way that reveals every subtle curve, while the fenders hang like punctuation marks, breaking up the strong horizontal line of the deck. Shot in black and white, the absence of colour shifts the viewer’s attention to texture and tonal separation. The polished deck, taut ropes, and the soft reflections in the harbour water each have their own surface quality. The exposure…
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Romeo’s Hideout
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Traffic Jam in Rome
Traffic Jam in Rome turns a mundane urban frustration into a tightly composed study of rhythm, glare, and human impatience. Shot in black and white, the image removes the distraction of colour, allowing form, texture, and contrast to carry the story. CompositionThe frame is dominated by the lead vehicle, a small Opel, positioned slightly off-centre but close enough to the lens to dwarf the rest of the scene. Its mass blocks the viewer’s way forward, much as the driver is blocked in reality. The eye then steps back through a staggered row of vehicles, each one receding into the compressed depth of traffic, until it meets the horizon cluttered with more…
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The Coffin
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The Last Barrell
There’s a certain poetry in objects long past their prime, and this image captures that sentiment with quiet precision. An old Q8 Oils barrel, mottled with rust and flaking paint, leans against a crumbling brick wall, its chain slack and purposeless. It feels abandoned yet still carries the weight of its former function — an industrial relic in a state of slow surrender to the elements. From a compositional standpoint, the photograph benefits from its simplicity. The barrel occupies a dominant position in the frame, slightly off-centre, drawing the viewer’s eye immediately to the texture of its surface. The chain provides a subtle vertical counterpoint to the horizontal curvature of…
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Seeing What Isn’t There
There’s no I Ching here. No coins. No symbols. No prophecy. And yet. This photo isn’t about what’s captured by the lens — it’s about what the mind decides is there. Three indistinct shadows above. Two sets of parallel lines below. That’s all. And yet, somewhere between them, something ancient is conjured. A trigram. A casting. A flipped coin in mid-air. Logic says: it’s a vent and the shadows of round objects on a backlit surface. But vision isn’t logic. It’s memory, pattern, story — all stitched together before you’re even aware you’re looking. Photography is often obsessed with truth. With freezing the real. But sometimes the most compelling images…
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Ray-Ban in Milan
It’s not just about what sits on the roof—it’s about what it says without blinking. Shot in the heart of Milan, this image captures a building that has seen eras come and go, crowned by a brand that has spent decades convincing the world to look cool while blocking out the light. The lettering floats above the stone like graffiti gentrified by permanence. I framed the photo dead-on, as if to let the architecture and the logo negotiate their own contrast. The façade is neoclassical, orderly, almost too proud to wear an ad. But there it is—Ray-Ban—scribbled in neon above cornices and keystones, as defiant as it is inevitable. Black…
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Shaken
The frame is a study in disarray — not in subject matter alone, but in its very execution. The scene, taken on a busy street, is blurred throughout: the figures, the car, the elegant repetition of arches behind them. Whether caused by an unsteady hand, a slow shutter, or a deliberate choice, the result is an image where nothing stands still enough to become the focal point. Two figures anchor the composition: one in the foreground to the left, caught mid-turn, the other to the right, hunched over something in his hands. Their outlines dissolve into the tonal softness, denying the viewer access to facial expression or fine detail. The…
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A cigarette
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A Waiter in via Sardegna
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Off Duty
From the back, their posture says almost as much as their uniforms. Four policemen walk away from the viewer, the word Polizia split and partially hidden by their movement. There’s no confrontation here, no heightened drama — instead, the image captures that moment of decompression, when the weight of vigilance begins to lift. The decision to shoot from behind removes the personal identifiers that a front-facing portrait would reveal. We are left with silhouettes of authority in retreat, the curve of a shoulder, the relaxed drop of an arm, the natural slouch of someone whose shift may be ending. In the background, the urban night hums along: signage, faint light,…
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Shadow On The Wall
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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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Pensive
This black-and-white image, taken along the riverside steps in Paris, captures the quiet weight of stillness against a backdrop of movement. At the centre of the frame sits a lone figure, their silhouette defined against the lighter tones of the water. They face away from the crowd, turned toward the river’s shifting surface, embodying a pause in a city otherwise in motion. CompositionThe most compelling element of this photograph is its use of leading lines. The sweeping curve of the steps pulls the eye from the lower right of the frame directly toward the seated figure, and then out toward the distant pedestrians. This arc not only structures the scene…
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Skating at Palais de Tokyo
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Under the Arc of the Seine
Paris has a way of revealing its geometry to those who care to look. This photograph, taken from the cobblestone banks of the Seine, uses the underside of a bridge as a natural proscenium arch. The frame it creates is both literal and compositional, guiding the viewer’s gaze toward the urban stage beyond. The sweep of the bridge’s curve is echoed by the concentric stone steps leading down to the water, while the horizontal layers of the background—trees, buildings, roadway—add a pleasing counterbalance to the strong arc. From a technical perspective, the choice of black and white serves the image well. Stripping away colour emphasises the interplay of lines, curves,…
