Colour
Vivid colour photography showcasing light, detail and atmosphere to capture life’s moments with depth, energy and emotion.
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The Lifeguard’s Tools
This image was taken on a humid Adriatic morning, before the sun had made its way through the marine haze. The beach is empty, save for the standard equipment of Italian stabilimenti: a stack of white plastic loungers, a faded parasol, and a time-worn pedalò parked like a stranded vessel waiting for a purpose it hasn’t had in years. The scene centres on a lifeguard, though not in the dramatic or muscular sense the word often evokes. He stands waist-deep in the still sea, just off a sign that likely warns swimmers of a drop-off or prohibited zone. His posture is unremarkable—calm, passive, perhaps resigned. And yet, that mundanity is…
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The Nightmare
Last night, at what should have been an intimate tango exhibition, I was reminded how delicate the relationship between photographer, performer, and audience really is. It’s a balance of presence and discretion — a dance of our own, if you will — and when one party missteps, the whole atmosphere can falter. The image I took here is less about the aesthetics of tango than about an interruption to its magic. In the foreground stands a photographer, camera raised, entirely absorbed in his task. The moon glows softly above him, the darkness swallowing most of the scene, but it’s clear enough to see the intent concentration on his face. Off…
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Staring At The Infinite
Shot on a quiet coastline, this image started as a spontaneous exercise in balance and distance—two figures set against the immeasurable vastness of the sea. The horizon offered a natural axis, both dividing and uniting the sky and the water, while the couple, placed slightly off-centre, became the emotional anchor. I chose a moderate focal length to avoid exaggerating depth or flattening perspective. The intent was to render the vastness not as spectacle, but as presence—imposing yet still intimate. The sea is not in fury, nor calm; it simply is, stretching without end behind them. That’s the metaphor I was after. Compositionally, I leaned on symmetry without being rigid. The…
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High Heels Ghost
I took this on a Saturday night, tripod low, exposure long. The street was busy but silent—one of those moments when you hear the city breathe between footsteps and engines. She passed quickly, dressed for somewhere else, but the shutter stayed open just long enough to erase her features and leave only motion. She became a spectre. Legs firm, heels sharp, but the torso blurred into translucence. It wasn’t planned. I wanted to catch life, but what emerged was absence—graceful, flickering, unresolved. That duality between presence and erasure fascinated me. Compositionally, it’s a static stage: parked cars, rough bark, municipal geometry. The frame’s symmetry anchors the chaos of the motion…
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Saturday Night’s Ice Cream
This image was taken late one summer evening, in that quiet stretch after dinner but before the streets empty out. The man in the frame is devouring his ice cream like it’s the first proper moment he’s had to himself all day—elbows on knees, back curved forward, eyes fixed on the cone like it holds more than just pistachio and stracciatella. Technically speaking, the photograph is far from pristine. Handheld in low light with a slow shutter and high ISO, the noise creeps in and sharpness suffers. But I don’t mind that. Precision wasn’t the priority here. What I wanted was to capture a trace of stillness in motion, a…
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When We Were Kids
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Avid Readers
Anything, Anywhere…
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Gotcha!
It was the contrast that caught my eye. A man stands knee-deep in the Adriatic shallows, focused, precise, moving a small blue net through the water like he’s brushing dust off glass. He’s working under the shadow of a trabocco—a towering wooden fishing machine, all cables and beams, designed to drop massive nets and haul in fish by the hundreds. The kind of structure that speaks of industry, tradition, scale. But here he is. Alone. Shirtless. Waist-deep. Fishing by hand. The second frame pulls back. You see it all—the full span of the trabocco, its arms stretched wide like a maritime cathedral. And at the base, dwarfed by design, the same man…
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Is This Smoke?
It seems so.
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Who Said That Music Is Relaxing?
Performance photography often leans on grand gestures—flying hair, dramatic spotlight, or an ecstatic soloist. I went in the opposite direction here, waiting for a moment of exhaustion rather than exaltation. The guitarist’s slumped posture, arm draped over his face, dissolves the illusion of effortless expression. It’s not stage fright or defeat—just the inescapable weight of presence. Shot from the stalls with a moderate telephoto, I aimed to compress the performer and his instrument, emphasising their closeness. The guitar, held tightly even in rest, becomes an extension of the body rather than a separate tool. The body language is loud, even if the room was likely hushed. I chose not to…
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The Sentinel
Though guys never rest.
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Easy Parking
He wasn’t in a hurry. The light was sharp, late afternoon, cutting across the concrete pillar like a blade, and he took his time adjusting the bags on the handlebar. A pair of shorts, sandals, striped shirt — nothing out of place, nothing performative. A man and his bicycle in a pocket of shadow beneath an overpass, with the river just behind. I didn’t move, didn’t call out. Just raised the camera and took the frame. This is a photo built on tension between geometry and decay. The straight line of the railing, the vertical force of the pillar, the rhythm of the bridge in the background — all intersect…
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Uncertainity
Photographs taken in urban dockside environments often carry a layered narrative—of industry meeting leisure, of movement paused, of a city’s arteries stretching both above and below the waterline. This image, with its juxtaposition of a small, worn boat in the foreground and the sweeping, multi-tiered bridges beyond, encapsulates that tension between the static and the dynamic. From a compositional perspective, the wooden railing in the foreground frames the lower half of the image, anchoring the scene and guiding the viewer’s gaze towards the boats. The man standing by the rail, casual in stance and attire, adds a human scale that balances the massive concrete structures above. His positioning—turned slightly away…
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A Sad Harley-Davidson
Forced to stay still, caged behind a glass, while the world turns.
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The Sprint Before the Ride
I caught this frame in a fleeting, almost comic moment: a man mid-stride, pushing his bike rather than riding it, as if caught in the space between two intentions. It’s not quite cycling, not quite running — a transitional gesture that tells a story of motion, effort, and perhaps urgency. The shot was taken low and close, which immediately exaggerates the presence of the subject and the bicycle. That choice, whether conscious or instinctive, works well here; it places the viewer almost on the ground, in the thick of the action, where the geometry of the paving stones converges towards the vanishing point in the distance. Technically, it’s not a…
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Smile!
Smile! It’s contagious!
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Aficionados
Shot at an hour when most are just negotiating their first coffee, this photograph captures what, for these men, seems like the golden hour of routine. The scene is lit by a low, uncompromising sun that slices across the facade with sharp clarity—rendering the textures of worn plaster, metal shutters, and red plastic chairs with the honesty of an observational sketch. I was drawn to this configuration because it needed no orchestration. It was already a tableau: three men, frontally exposed, anchored by Peroni-branded chairs, embodying a choreography of idleness. The fourth, half-turned with one leg outstretched and a cap shielding his gaze, punctuates the composition with a visual counter-rhythm.…
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Carl Zeiss T* 50 1,5 Sonnar and EOS EF-M 18-55
Gear time again. Notwithstanding its quirks I can’t get rid of this EOS-M camera and still try to find a reason not to dispose of it. This time I wanted to see how does the camera performs with Zeiss ZM lenses (namely, the Carl Zeiss T* 50 1,5 Sonnar) thanks to the – again brilliant – EOS-M to Leica M lens adapter by Master Adriano Lolli. As everybody can see the results are of a poor quality compared to the (not stellar) performance of the Canon EF-M 18-55. The Zeiss is not faulty (I use it on a Leica M6 and it works like a charm) so I came to…
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A Little Of Thailand In Rome
Walking through Rome, it’s always the unexpected juxtapositions that stop me in my tracks. This small corner, framed by a weathered marble wall on one side and the muted sheen of a modern doorway on the other, holds a Thai welcome — a statue draped in marigold garlands, hands pressed together in the wai greeting, a silent gesture of hospitality transplanted far from its native home. From a compositional standpoint, I went for a straightforward, vertical framing to preserve the integrity of the statue’s posture. The side table in the lower right, with its offering of flowers and folded leaf packages, gives a cultural context that anchors the image. The…
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The Actor’s Nightmare
The light was soft, early evening. A lounge in perfect order—chairs aligned, menus standing, ashtrays clean. Everything ready for guests who haven’t arrived. Or maybe they already left. On the wall, a screen glows dimly. A face caught in grainy black and white, paused mid-thought. An actor from some old film, eyes fixed just off-centre. And here’s the strange thing: it looks like he’s watching the room. Looking straight at the empty chairs. That was the moment I took the frame. Not because the interior was elegant, though it was. Not because the light was dramatic, though it helped. But because the whole space felt like a stage no one…
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Is The Sky Falling On Their Heads?
The photograph wasn’t planned. It was simply observed — a pocket of time, mid-afternoon, Abruzzo heat bearing down, the kind that slows everything to a stubborn crawl. I stood facing this kiosk-bar, the kind you find near campsites and old swimming pools, and pressed the shutter as the two men crossed paths. It wasn’t about them, specifically. It was about the echo — the posture, the bellies, the slightly arched backs, the shared suspicion of something overhead. The title is a nod, of course — Uderzo and Goscinny’s Asterix stories, and that primal fear of the sky falling on our heads. These men could have walked straight off a panel…
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A few shots from a Paco de Lucia live performance
A few shots from a Live Report I did for Rockol.it, an online music magazine
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An Evening Chat
The heat is unbearable in the evening of summer, but it doesn’t stop people from enjoying the outdoor nightlife.
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Careful With That Bike, Eugene!
Sticks And Stones Can Break My Bones…
