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Free Ride
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Behind a Shop Window in Oslo
This was one of those scenes that unfolded on its own terms. No decisive moment, no split-second drama—just a man behind glass, cleaning or adjusting or both, surrounded by faceless mannequins and the awkward geometry of retail preparation. I raised the Nikon 35 TI and pressed the shutter before overthinking it. Shot through the shop window, the glass worked both against me and with me. It introduced layers—literal and symbolic. Reflections were minimal but present, just enough to remind us we’re on the outside looking in. The man is inside a constructed world, arranging it, tidying its surfaces for consumption. The mannequins—blank-eyed children—stand frozen, already staged, while he works between…
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The Wild Bunch
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Running On The (Oslo’s) Docks
The moment lasted a fraction of a second. I was walking along the Oslo harbour, camera hanging loosely, eyes half on the ships and half on the geometry of the paving stones when he entered the frame — the runner. Perfect posture, right leg extended mid-stride, left arm balancing out the rhythm, and most crucially, isolated against the background clutter of docked ships and cranes. This image isn’t about the athleticism. It’s about pace, solitude, and counterpoint. The city rests behind him, still and orderly, while he pushes forward, cutting through the quiet with motion and intention. He’s small against the marine industrial backdrop, but all attention lands on him.…
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Portrait of The Alfa Romeo Guru
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A Haunted(?) House
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Urban Desolation
This photograph is part of a study I’ve been developing on marginal architecture—spaces neglected by urban development yet still clinging to presence. The building isn’t ruined in a picturesque way. It’s just exhausted. Scarred concrete, flaking plaster, and rusted grates stand as accidental testimonies of permanence beyond usefulness. I composed the frame to draw the viewer’s eye along the length of the structure, ending with the blurred outlines of new buildings in the background. The juxtaposition isn’t subtle—it wasn’t meant to be. These walls hold layers of past usage, from the makeshift repairs to the graffiti tags now fading like old memories. Technically, the photo rides a fine line between…
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Street Crossing
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Ramping Up
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Windows
The photograph isolates a stark interior: two narrow barred windows flanking a central wall, and above them, a single rectangular window letting in pale light. Geometry dominates—verticals and horizontals align, while the bars break symmetry with their irregular grid. The result is a study in confinement and release, the eye inevitably drawn upward toward the light source. Composition is strict, almost architectural. The side windows anchor the lower frame, their darkness reinforcing the weight of the walls. The brighter upper window, positioned centrally, becomes both focal point and escape. Depth is minimal; the flatness of the surfaces intensifies the sensation of enclosure. Technically, the black and white treatment enhances austerity.…
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Food For Thought
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Via Collina, Empty, From Above
The perspective is vertical, as if leaning out and looking straight down. Cars line both sides of the narrow street, parked in strict succession, their roofs forming a patchwork of tones. The pavement and façades edge the scene, flattening into geometry under the camera’s angle. At the centre, however, the street itself is bare—an unexpected strip of emptiness in a crowded frame. Composition relies on symmetry and repetition. The rhythm of vehicles, rectangles of windows, and parallel lines of pavement create a structured grid. The lamppost, suspended on its wire, interrupts this order with a curve, offering a counterpoint to the rectilinear logic. Two pedestrians near the corner introduce scale,…
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A Jazz-Manouche Guitar Player
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Wet Socks
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Full Moon
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Bent
Shot with a Nikon F3 and a 16mm fisheye, this isn’t your typical curved-sky, skateboard-in-midair kind of photo. Instead of pushing the distortion to the front of the image, I let it sneak in at the edges—just enough to bend the rules. The subject is ordinary: a coastal bridge, a pedestrian path, the usual lampposts lining a curve. But the lens pulls the whole scene inward, gives it weight and sweep, turns a flat space into something that stretches, leans, folds in on itself. I like using fisheye glass this way—not as a gimmick, not for laughs, but to see how geometry shifts when you force perspective without centring it.…
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Portrait of a Perinatal Cardiologist
Salvatore Gerboni, MD, is an expert perinatal cardiologist and a great human being.
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Out For Justice
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What Are You Looking At?
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Poetry Still Survives
Blessed be the city, where somebody can earn his day, by selling poetry.
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Cupido’s Fall
There was a time when Cupido ruled the world. Not the cherubic archer of myth, but the man on the torn poster — a champion accordionist, his name blazing in dotted capitals, promising music and spectacle. Now, the paper curls at the edges, bleached and scarred by weather, the glory half-erased by time and graffiti. The god of love meets the fate of every earthly name: reduced to a fading print on a damp wall, fighting a losing battle against rust, mould, and the next layer of urban scribble. The photograph works because it understands the poetry of decay. The black-and-white treatment is an apt choice — stripping the scene…
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The Teleferic de Montjiuc
I framed this high, tight, and in monochrome. The tower holds its geometry clean against a washed-out sky, bisected by the tension of support cables that anchor the structure both physically and compositionally. The decision to exclude ground and context wasn’t aesthetic—it was structural. I wanted the image to stand on line, angle, and steel alone. Shot with a mid-telephoto to flatten depth slightly and reduce parallax across the girders. The light was diffuse but not flat. A break in the clouds gave enough gradient to define planes without creating shadow noise. The exposure leaned conservative: highlights retained in the clouds, midtones preserved in the riveted panels and pulleys. No…
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Time Runs Fast And Unstoppable
This photo was staged to convey the idea that life is slipping away inexorably quickly. The subject is simple: a pocket watch suspended in space, its leather cord taut, its face briefly legible before dissolving into motion. The watch was not chosen at random. I borrowed an Eberhard Tazio Nuvolari, which is named after one of the greatest drivers of all time. Nuvolari was unstoppable and his most successful win was against the German Silver Arrows in the 1935 German Grand Prix. Despite driving an Alfa Romeo Tipo B/P3, which was believed to have no chance against the faster and more powerful Mercedes, he succeeded against all odds through sheer…
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The Hamlet’s Dilemma
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Between Two Sets
