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Different Financial Transactions
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The Sorcerer’s Shop
Walking past the narrow streets that night, I was struck by the oddly theatrical composition this small shop presented. “La Bottega delle Streghe” — The Sorcerer’s Shop — proclaimed the sign above, and there in the doorway hung a single jacket, swaying faintly in the evening air. Through the open door, the frame split into two narratives: the interior, softly lit and cluttered with fabric and objects; and beyond it, the alleyway, dimly illuminated, with a car just visible in the background. The framing here is deliberate — the doorway acts as both literal and visual threshold. The viewer is pulled in, suspended between the world outside and whatever spells…
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Very British
Taken in London, this photograph distils a handful of instantly recognisable motifs into a single frame — the black cab, adorned with a Union Jack roof, easing forward past a red telephone box, with “Look Left” painted on the asphalt as a quiet instruction to visitors. The two women waiting at the kerb, one in tights and flats, the other in sandals and jeans, are caught mid-interaction, their body language suggesting either anticipation of crossing or casual conversation. From a compositional standpoint, the cab takes command of the foreground, placed fractionally off-centre to allow the eye to travel backwards along the street. The depth is reinforced by the layering of…
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London in Motion: A Night Ride in a Single Frame
A red double-decker bus slices through the night, leaving only its luminous ghost behind. In this fleeting moment, captured on a wet London street, the city reveals its rhythm—not through its buildings or its people, but through its constant movement. The bus doesn’t pause to announce itself. Its iconic shape is blurred into streaks of red and blue light, a reminder that in this city, life is always in transit. The wet pavement catches the glow of streetlamps and traffic signals, spreading the colours like brushstrokes across black asphalt. Even the green arrow on the traffic light seems to point the way forward, as if urging the scene along. Behind…
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The Day of the Zombies
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South Bank’s Ghosts
London South Bank is rarely empty. People drift between lights, half tourists, half ghosts. This frame captures that uncertainty — the outlines of figures walking up the steps, undefined, dissolving into atmosphere. The architecture and sky barely hold form. You feel motion, distance, and a certain anonymity. I shot this image in one of those in-between winter evenings when the light fades faster than your eyes adjust. I hadn’t planned the frame; it happened as I climbed the steps toward the river and saw a group of people silhouetted against the low, cloudy sky. I missed focus entirely. What emerged, however, was a photograph that said more in blur than…
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Half a Bridge
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Where Do I Go From Here?
I made this photo in the middle of a transit hall—hard surfaces, glass glare, and the quiet choreography of people mid-journey. The woman in the foreground walks with purpose, but her eyes betray hesitation. She’s holding a ticket, a folded coat, a bag slung forward in a way that suggests she’s not fully settled. That moment of uncertainty, brief as a blink, is what locked this frame for me. The Leica M9 isn’t forgiving in high-contrast light like this. Dynamic range is limited, and if you blow your highlights, they’re gone for good. I underexposed slightly, prioritising detail in the skin and clothing, knowing I’d have to manage the blown…
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Killing Time
I took this shot on a warm afternoon along the South Bank, a place that constantly offers small theatres of human behaviour. What caught my attention wasn’t just the variety of people, but the choreography they seemed to form without knowing it. On the left, a couple stand, the man in mid-turn, the woman absorbed in her phone. In the middle, four figures sit on the pavement, each lost in their own world—two immersed in digital screens, two in books. To the right, two women converse, bodies leaning slightly inward. The visual anchor is the large poster behind them: an intricate illustration of a face framed by peacock feathers. It…
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Weren’t a Smartphone and a Selfie Stick Enough?
I came across this scene by the river, a curious reminder of how professional video production still insists on carrying a certain visual gravitas—bulky cameras, tripods, cables trailing like stubborn vines, a producer juggling a laptop in the open air. The subject, immaculately dressed in black with a luxury backpack and gold-accented shoes, seemed to embrace the contrast: part street style, part broadcast formality. From a photographic standpoint, I framed the shot to capture the triangle of interaction: presenter, cameraman, producer. The bridge in the background, softened by a wide aperture, hints at location without intruding. The muted palette of the surroundings lets the splashes of colour—those gold shoes and…
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Did You Forget Something?
Two Guardsmen march in precise step, the scarlet of their tunics and the gleam of polished boots cutting sharply against the muted stone façade behind them. The one at the rear carries the regimental colour, upright and immovable, while the man in front moves with equal discipline but empty-handed. It’s this absence — that invisible weight where a ceremonial object should be — that transforms a moment of rigid tradition into something quietly humorous. I composed the frame to isolate the pair mid-stride, ensuring both figures were given enough breathing space to let the eye move between them. The shallow depth of field was intentional; I wanted the bystanders in…
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The Financial Times at Night
Photographing office buildings after dark often reveals more than the day ever will. In this frame, the Financial Times offices stand illuminated against the void of a London night, each lit rectangle a stage, each desk a silent prop. The bright interiors are clean and geometric, their fluorescent light pouring through the grid of windows, set into the modernist rhythm of the façade. The composition is precise, aligned so the vertical and horizontal lines of the structure carry the weight of the frame. A slight foreground intrusion — the blurred metal fence — reminds the viewer that the vantage point is from the street, outside looking in. This physical separation…
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Late Night Conversation at Cardinal’s Wharf
I took this from across the street, handheld in the dark, balancing shutter speed against the pulse in my wrist. Inside, lit by that unmistakable domestic glow, a group leaned into conversation — not performative, not loud, just steady voices behind glass. I didn’t need to hear them. The posture told enough: bodies turned, heads dipped, attention fixed. The architecture did the framing. Georgian windowpanes divide the scene into grids, slicing the figures into segments — fragments of intimacy seen from a public path. The deep contrast between the warm interior and the cool, shadowed exterior gave the photo its form. This wasn’t voyeurism. It was a study in separation…
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Skull of Glass at the London Science Museum
Standing in front of this glass skull, I was struck by the tension between its physical transparency and the opacity of its meaning. Photographically, the object invites a very particular challenge — how to capture something that both reflects and refracts its surroundings while retaining a sense of sculptural form. I approached the composition head-on, embracing the symmetry of the human face while allowing the slight distortions of the glass to play across its features. The choice of a tight crop eliminates environmental distractions, forcing the viewer into a direct confrontation with the piece. The reflections — faintly revealing the space beyond — create subtle secondary layers, adding context without…
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A Single(‘s) Call
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Blackfriars Train Station Banner
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Just Another Piccadilly Circus’ View
There’s a temptation, when standing in the middle of London’s Piccadilly Circus, to think that you’ve seen it all before. And in a way, you have. This is one of the most photographed corners of the city—neon-lit, traffic-heavy, forever brimming with tourists. Which is precisely why I wanted to make this frame. Not to reinvent the wheel, but to quietly acknowledge its inevitability. I chose a slightly elevated position, letting the sweep of Regent Street’s curve pull the viewer’s eye into the frame. The red double-decker is exactly where it should be—almost a cliché—but here it works as a punctuation mark in the composition, tying in with the bold McDonald’s…
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A Boat Under The Bridge
There’s something inherently cinematic about the Thames at night. The water becomes a restless mirror, fractured and stitched together by the city’s lights. In this photograph, taken beneath one of London’s bridges, the play of colour is what first arrests the eye: deep blues and purples flood the steel framework, punctuated by warm reds and yellows that seem almost to breathe against the cold tones. From a compositional standpoint, the arch of the bridge acts as a powerful leading line, drawing the viewer’s gaze toward the illuminated boat gliding quietly in the background. The layering here — water in the foreground, the bridge’s underbelly at mid-frame, and the distant boat…
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Bus Driver
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A London’s Skyline
London at night has an entirely different pulse. From the South Bank, the city stretches across the Thames in a jumble of modern glass and steel, its towers blinking like an impatient circuit board. In this frame, the Walkie Talkie leans imposingly to the right, while the jagged edges of the Cheesegrater and other high-rises punctuate the skyline. The Millennium Bridge slices across the scene, leading the eye to that bright cube of light floating on the river—a beacon, a question mark, perhaps both. Technically, this was a balancing act. Night photography in an urban environment often tempts you to overexpose the lights or lose detail in the shadows. Here,…
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A Bad Experiment
I had to cover “in emergency” a date of the musical Notre-Dame de Paris and found myself “unarmed” (no camera available whatsoever), so I have been forced to fall back on my mobile. While, at the end of the day and with great difficulty, I have been able to shoot something vaguely useful, this experience blew away any possible plan to use a mobile’s camera to handle an assignment. Simply put, mobile’s cameras suck, unless you go for (very)close or cheap shots. This should have been pretty obvious without the need of looking for hard evidence. Nevertheless, out of necessity, I have been able to test and learn on my…
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The Hacker and the Photographer
I took this photograph during an outdoor gathering of hackers, where conversations drifted as naturally as the summer air. The two men stood facing each other, locked in dialogue, their body language hinting at the exchange of ideas. One, casual in a T-shirt, gestures while speaking; the other, with a camera slung across his chest, listens intently, head slightly tilted, eyes narrowed in concentration. The composition is straightforward yet effective. By framing the two figures close, the photograph captures intimacy without needing to show the crowd around them in detail. The background is softly blurred, thanks to a shallow depth of field, which keeps the focus on the interaction. The…
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Antonio Onorato
I made this image on assignment, but it ended up becoming a personal one. Antonio Onorato, mid-performance, eyes closed, completely surrendered to the instrument in his hands. That wasn’t planned — no setup, no retake. Just a split-second that happened because I was watching, not waiting. The Canon EF 100–400 isn’t the obvious choice for stage photography — especially not on a full-frame body like the 5D Mark II, which, by today’s standards, is a bit sluggish in low light. But it worked, surprisingly well. I kept the aperture wide open, ISO higher than I’d usually tolerate, and rode the shutter just fast enough to freeze the tension in his…
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Franco Cerri. The Last Jazz Living Legend
Ninety year’s old and still grooving! Franco Cerri sits in the spotlight, guitar in hand, the stage around him fading into black. His posture is relaxed, his smile unforced—this is not the grin of a performer straining for the audience, but the quiet joy of a man at home with his instrument. The fingers still know exactly where to go, gliding along the fretboard with the confidence of decades, the kind of touch that only comes from living inside the music. Behind him, half in shadow, the bassist follows, letting Cerri’s notes lead. The frame captures more than a performance—it holds the weight of history. Cerri wasn’t just a player;…
