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Servicing a Beretta 98FS
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Comarketing
Two adjacent shop windows that seem, unintentionally, to speak to each other. On the left, rare books and old prints rest under soft light, their pages worn and yellowed. On the right, a brightly lit glass case displays modern eyewear, polished and reflective, marketed with sleek precision. A drainpipe slices the frame in two, acting as a border between past and present, knowledge and fashion, permanence and trend. Technically, the image holds together through contrast. The exposure balances the dim warmth of the books with the cooler, artificial light of the glasses’ display. Reflections in the glass add layers, hinting at street life beyond the frame. The sharpness allows textures…
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What’s the Time?
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Garbage As Usual – Pantheon’s Nearby
Rome has an unrivalled way of holding beauty and decay in the same frame, and this street is no exception. The cobblestones, slick from a recent rain, mirror the ochre façades and Renaissance windows in a way that almost disguises the litter piled quietly along the curb. Almost. A man in a crisp shirt walks down the centre, back straight, seemingly immune to the refuse that flanks his path. It’s not that he doesn’t see it—it’s that he’s learned to live with it, as many Romans have. On the right, another figure leans against a doorway, absorbed in his phone, framed by stacked crates and plastic bags. Life continues unbothered.…
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The Boat That Never Left
Docked, stripped, tagged, rusted. I shot close with a fisheye to exaggerate the curvature of the hull and drag the viewer across its surface. The distortion isn’t incidental—it’s structural. The lines bend to reveal scale and tension. This is graffiti over steel, corrosion under paint, void behind broken glass. I exposed for the midtones to hold the whites in the spray and the texture in the oxidised seams. f/8 for consistent edge-to-edge sharpness, ISO 200, 1/125s. Light was flat—overcast sky softening shadows without dulling the forms. The left-to-right arc carries the frame. No central subject. Instead, accumulation. Tags, vents, cables, fractures. The dolphin up top is barely visible but critical—vestigial optimism…
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Another Bridge
I shot this with a fisheye precisely to bend reality into something less familiar. The structure itself—a pedestrian bridge of steel and cable—already has a certain grace, but the distortion turns it into a sweeping arc that almost feels like it’s about to close in on itself. The cables draw the eye to the centre, while the graffiti below pulls it back to street level, grounding the image in the here and now. The day was heavy with cloud, the light diffused and slightly cold. That worked to my advantage: no harsh shadows to compete with the strong geometric lines, and just enough tonal variation in the sky to give…
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A Bridge
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Old Rolls, Immortal Style
When I stepped into the Toyota Museum in Nagoya I wasn’t there to chase a vintage V12 roar – I was after a photograph that could make the steel of those hatchbacks sing. I set the camera, took a breath, and aimed at the gleaming 2000‑series Corolla perched beneath that cathedral‑like skylight. The result is a picture that feels like a high‑octane sprint through a showroom, but let’s not pretend it’s flawless; let’s break it down the way a proper car reviewer would.
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A Street Dancer In Sakae
The figure cuts across the frame in mid-motion, blurred by the long exposure into a streak of speed and rhythm. What might have been a simple step in the street becomes here a dance, arms and legs stretched in dynamic diagonals. The city’s lights smear into horizontal bands, a stage built of glass and neon for a fleeting performance. Composition thrives on movement. The dancer is placed almost centrally but leans into the right side of the frame, suggesting continuation beyond what we see. The motion blur is not a flaw but the subject itself: it transforms a person into gesture, a body into energy. Behind, the fractured colours of…
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Tough Enough
I took this photograph on a busy crossing, stopping behind a man whose style caught my attention immediately. His shaved head, chain accessories, and heavy branding on both shirt and jeans projected a deliberate identity—part biker, part urban cowboy, part street performance. The clothing itself, emblazoned with wings, stars, and slogans, seemed designed to announce toughness before a word was spoken. From a compositional standpoint, I chose to shoot from behind, letting the graphics on his clothes dominate the frame. This perspective makes the man more symbol than portrait, reducing him to a surface of imagery and text. The striped pedestrian crossing beneath his feet adds a rhythm of lines…
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Who Is The Machine?
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Mandatory Photo Position
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Street Magic@Nagoya Castle
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Fast Food Loneliness in Nagoya…
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In the Rain, A Helping Hand
The rain hit fast and hard. Streets turned to rivers in minutes. I was sheltering under a bus stop roof, camera still strapped around my shoulder, when I saw the man go down. Not dramatically—just a slow, heavy fall as he misjudged the kerb under the surge of water. Then came the officer. No hesitation. No fuss. Just a clean, instinctive move to lift him. The Leica didn’t leave my eye. I shot quickly—no time to compose in a traditional sense, but sometimes the moment doesn’t wait for your geometry. The turquoise pole on the left anchors the frame almost by accident. The crossing lines in the background help balance…
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Mid-Knee Clinch
This frame caught the clinch mid-knee, elbows locked, muscles in tension, balance tipping. I didn’t fire in burst—timing was deliberate. The image had to hold the convergence of force and geometry: shin to torso, fists to neck, backs arched into compression. Shot ringside at f/2.8 with a fast telephoto, ISO pushed to 3200 under dim sodium-halide lights softened by overhead mesh. Shutter at 1/640s, just enough to freeze impact without killing the tension in the stance. Noise control was adequate. Detail retained in skin texture and compression shorts without artificial smoothing. Lighting was patchy but consistent enough to avoid burnouts. Composition obeys containment. The cage creates the visual boundary, but…
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Collision Path
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TKO
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A view of the Bologna’s Station
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The Score Keeper
There’s a subtle choreography here — one man aiming downrange, the other poised with a device held high, recording or perhaps timing. The scene is unmistakably a shooting range, but the moment is more about the roles that orbit the act itself. This isn’t just about the shooter; it’s about the infrastructure of precision, measurement, and discipline that frames the sport. Compositionally, the photograph works well with its layered focus. The viewer’s eye moves naturally from the strong diagonal of the man in white, up his raised arm, and then across to the figure in dark clothing aiming towards the target screen. The two red handprints on the barrier form…
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Luggages
I framed the beagle as one more item in the window: tagged by its harness, parked on the threshold, reflected like stock behind glass. The suitcases promise mobility. The dog, still and compliant, reads as another container to be handled, stored, and retrieved. That is the tension I wanted. Composition puts the animal slightly off-centre, level with the lowest display plinth so the eye equates subject and object. The reflection completes the conceit, doubling the dog the way duplicate models line a shelf. The pavement line anchors the scene, while the stacked cases build a grid that the body neatly occupies. Exposure is restrained to keep detail through glass and…
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When Heroes Come to Town
The armour clanked softly as he turned. Foam, paint, Velcro, and pride. I took this shot at a cosplay convention. The kind where universes blur together in the corridors and everyone is someone else for a while. He was dressed as Optimus Prime—or something close enough to carry the weight. She stood opposite, painted purple, gold-clad glove raised in mock judgment. Thanos, reimagined with a wink. I shot from behind. It felt right. Not to reveal, but to witness. There’s a kind of reverence in seeing a costume from this angle: the care in the stitching, the scuffs from wear, the illusion holding just enough to be believable—but only to…
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Emanuele Cavallucci. The New Italian Pro Boxing Welterweight Champion
Boxing is cruel to photographers. Not because it’s fast — although it is — but because it’s chaotic. In the ring, there’s no neatly choreographed movement, no second takes. You’ve got sweat flying, ropes cutting through your composition, referees wandering into frame, and the perpetual risk of being exactly half a second too late. This shot came together with the Nikon D610 paired to the Nikkor 24–120mm f/4 — a workhorse lens that, while not the fastest in maximum aperture, offers just the right flexibility for ringside work. Here, I caught the moment Cristofori’s jab lands flush on his opponent’s cheek, the head snapping back, muscles taut with the torque…
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Portrait of a Professional Pugilist. Davide De Lellis
He had the kind of face that told its own story long before a shutter ever clicked — a mix of focus, fatigue, and that guarded reserve I’ve often seen in fighters before a bout. Photographing a professional pugilist isn’t about glorifying the violence of the sport, but about catching that fleeting moment where discipline, experience, and vulnerability intersect. I chose a tight composition, keeping the frame uncluttered so the viewer’s attention rested on the expression and posture. Every crease in the skin, every glint of sweat, mattered; these details carried more weight than any background could. Depth of field was shallow enough to isolate him from distraction, but not…
