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An Inside Irongate
Inside and old building, in the heart of Rome.
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The Angel Maker
There are some things you only find in Rome. Down a narrow street behind the Teatro di Pompeo, inside a studio that smells of dust, turpentine and time, I watched a man restoring angels. Not metaphorically—literally. Plaster cherubs laid out across the table, grey with primer, one mid-stroke under his steady brush. The place looked more like a reliquary than a workshop. And in a way, it was. He’s a master restorer. The kind of figure you expect in an old Fellini film, surrounded by faded tapestries, cracked frames, and gold leaf so fine it breathes when you exhale near it. But this wasn’t a scene. This was a day’s…
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A Relaxed Call
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W Verdi
Milan rewards you when you walk slowly. I turned a corner and found a living quotation mark to a poster: an elderly man paused beneath a billboard of a stern, bearded face—Giuseppe Verdi by way of contemporary graphic design. The likeness was uncanny enough to make the old slogan in my head—Viva Verdi—mutate into “W Verdi,” a wink at how public imagery and real life can rhyme. I built the frame around that rhyme. The poster anchors the top-right quadrant while the man occupies the lower-left, a diagonal conversation that keeps the eye ping-ponging across the picture. I left generous negative space to let the pairing breathe; too tight and…
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Carabinieri in Milan
Milan’s downtown it’s not the most dangerous place out there, nevertheless is always nice to see the Carabinieri walking around…
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Lost Cigarettes at Piazza Affari
The Milan Stock-Exchange is just closed, another stressful day is gone, so are the cigarettes. The Milan Stock Exchange has just closed. Another day of trading — of numbers, speculation, tension, and relief — is over. The square begins to exhale. The crowds thin, footsteps fade, and the traces of human presence remain in small, almost invisible ways. Here, in a shallow puddle on the cobblestones of Piazza Affari, the day’s residue is quietly recorded: cigarette butts, scraps, and the inverted grandeur of a neoclassical façade. I was drawn to the way the water held both the building’s form and the detritus of the day in a single frame. The reflection, sharp…
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A Fashion Shop in Milan
In a fashion shop is always hard to tell the difference beween a model and a store clerk.
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A Portrait on the Nasdaq Building
I took this photograph in the year 2000, standing in front of the Nasdaq building and staring at a giant portrait of a man whose name I never learned. The caption read “July 1985” — perhaps the date of his death — and the grainy, blown-up image suggested an older video still. In the upper-left of the portrait, there were shelves lined with what looked like vinyl records. That detail nudged me toward thinking he might have been a musician or someone who worked in the recording industry. But it’s speculation. What I could say with certainty was that his expression stopped me in my tracks. There was a strange…
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So Long, Eos-M
A couple of days ago, while wandering around a street-market, I spotted a small “exhibit” of old Nikon and Hasselblad lenses. I thought it would have been nice to get the two “classic” lenses for the System V, so I traded my Eos-M (and lenses) for a Carl Zeiss lenses: a Distagon 50 and a Sonnar 150. The seller was eager to strike the deal, but I’m not sure who actually got the best bargain…
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Slow Walk at Mulberry St.
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Leaving The Actor’s Studio
No, the title is not a misspell. To perform as a true artist, the Actors Studio must actually become an actor’s studio. Shot handheld on a cold night in New York, I framed this outside the famous 44th Street façade of The Actors Studio. What drew me wasn’t the name, but the irony held in the glow above the door. Big, institutional lettering—THE ACTORS STUDIO—brightly lit, looming. Yet below it, a single man stands, barely visible, caught in the diffused downlight from the marquee. It wasn’t staged. He just was there—half-shadowed, alone, waiting. Technically, this is a push to the edge. ISO was high, grain heavy. Shadows crush into black. Highlights…
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Cold Night, Hot Drink
A cold night calls for a hot drink…
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Next Time, Maybe…
I made this image in one of those narrow alleys in central Brussels, where restaurants compete not just with food but with neon, colour, and attention. It’s visual overload by design. Menus on easels, signs screaming prices, waiters halfway between invitation and insistence. But what caught me wasn’t the display—it was the woman walking straight through, uninterested, unmoved. She wasn’t choosing where to eat. She was choosing not to. The photo hinges on that gesture. Her hands are in motion, her shoulders hunched from the cold, her gaze slightly lowered. She becomes the counterpoint to the street’s whole premise. All this effort around her, and none of it lands. That’s…
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The Lost Battle
Against the New York traffic, the controllers themselves, contended in vain.
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What an Elegant Chocolatier!
Brussels wears its chocolate heritage like a badge of honour, and this image captures that sense of refinement and indulgence with a quietly cinematic touch. The composition is cleverly split between the interior glow of the shop and the poised figure outside. The chocolatier, dressed in an understated but impeccably tailored suit, stands just beyond the threshold, his profile framed by the shop’s edge. The counterpoint to his form is the rich, inviting display of chocolates, boxes, and ribboned confections bathed in warm light inside. This juxtaposition — cool tones on the left, warm tones on the right — creates both visual and thematic tension: the disciplined elegance of the…
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Welcome in the New (?) Year
The year is new, but the job is same old. Work hard, earn your day.
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Stantsted Lounge’s Chairs
I took this photo just after the final boarding call echoed through the terminal, the kind of stillness that only follows a rush. The lounge was cleared in minutes — all urgency gone, replaced by silence. The chairs, once wrapped in the inertia of travel, now stood like architectural punctuation against the faux-wood paneling, waiting for the next wave of restless travellers. I framed the shot at a low angle, intentionally compressing the line of stools to push a rhythm into the scene — one repetition after the other. It’s a simple structure, but the legs of the stools, criss-crossing over each other, create a mesh of shadow geometry on…
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London Panning
Pure Luck. Sometimes happens.
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Ceci n’est pas un cadre
A few, different meanings. The most evident (?):it is a mirror, actually. Thus is not a peinture. The less evident: the title is a sleight of word on the famous Magritte’s masterwork “Ceci n’est pas une pipe“. The lesser evident: I shot the picture in Bruxelles, where is located the Magritte Museum.
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Fast Call
Clients are waiting, still, an urgent call needs to be done.
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The Silent Listeners
Covent Garden, again. Like the music of Orpheus’Lyra, the voice of the singer brings back to life the lifeless mannequins.
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Behind the Beer
Behind the beer’s sockets, a barman discretely fulfills the order placed by his clients.
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Christmas Time at Covent Garden
I caught this moment at Covent Garden during the run-up to Christmas—a place already soaked in atmosphere, now further steeped in the low murmur of seasonal anticipation. The light was dimming, not quite golden hour, but soft enough to let the scene breathe. Shot with the Leica M9, the CCD sensor rendered the colours with that particular tonal grit that makes digital files feel almost filmic. You can sense the density of the blacks without them ever falling into shadow-mud. What first caught my eye was the woman in the red coat. Not just the brightness of the garment—which naturally draws the eye—but the posture, the precise angle of the…
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A Curious Bystander
Rue de la Regence, at night. A fast pace calls the attention of a bystander.
