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Empty Chairs in the Tuileries
Paris in the rain changes its pace. The air thickens, the sounds dampen, and spaces usually alive with chatter take on a hushed, suspended quality. Here, in the Jardin des Tuileries, the iconic green metal chairs gather loosely at the edge of the fountain. They are arranged without intention—angled differently, backs turned, no symmetry to suggest a shared moment. It’s as if the conversation ended abruptly and the participants slipped away, leaving only their seats to remember the posture of their presence. The wet ground darkens the green paint, the armrests glisten with a thin film of water, and the fountain continues its arc in the background, indifferent. The frame…
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Much Too Short a Ladder
Paris has a way of presenting juxtapositions that are almost too perfectly absurd to be staged. Here, in the grand setting of Place de la Concorde, fountains spray elegantly into the autumn air, the French flag waves over the distant dome of the Grand Palais—and in the foreground, an oddly truncated ladder leans against a massive plinth, clearly destined to reach nowhere. When I framed the shot, I was immediately drawn to the humour of scale. The ornate column, richly decorated in green and gold, stands in confident verticality, while the ladder—plain, utilitarian, and utterly inadequate—sits at a hopeless angle. It’s a visual joke, but one the city offered up…
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The Three Musketeers
… Hey, where the hell is d’Artagnan?
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Forgotten
If you don’t want to bring fresh flowers, at least remove the old ones…
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Watching the Eiffel Tower
When I came across this scene on a Parisian bridge, it struck me not for the Eiffel Tower itself — an endlessly photographed subject — but for the two observers standing before it. They weren’t together, at least not in the way people usually are when they share a view. Both wore similar beige trench coats, almost like accidental uniforms, but their postures told two separate stories. The man leaned over the balustrade, intent on whatever he was photographing or inspecting; the woman stood back, upright, her gaze lifted towards the tower, seemingly taking it in whole. The weather conspired to help the mood: an overcast Paris sky, mottled clouds…
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The Double Helix
When I made this photograph, I was struck by the tension between form and function in the spiral staircase. The image does not seek drama or grandeur; instead, it isolates a fragment of everyday architecture and presents it as a study of rhythm and geometry. The curved underside of the staircase sweeps across the left of the frame, guiding the eye upward, while the metal railing introduces a vertical counterpoint. The steps themselves, worn and slightly uneven, add texture against the otherwise smooth surfaces. From a technical standpoint, I opted for a straightforward exposure, allowing the contrast between the whites of the wall and the greys of the steps to…
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The Changer — Glass Walls, Paper Smiles, and Currency Drained
Shot through the pane of a Paris bureau de change, this image came together almost by accident, although the structure was too rigid to call it candid. I was struck by the transactional melancholy of it all. The young man hunched behind the counter, bathed in the cold glow of LED-lit optimism, was framed perfectly by posters promising “a fabulous customer experience.” The visual irony was impossible to ignore — printed smiles all around, while the only real expression behind the glass was fatigue. Technically, this image is about reflection and layering. The pane acts as both barrier and canvas, catching the street behind me and folding it into the…
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George Braque
The Leica M9 isn’t forgiving, but in return, it doesn’t lie. This frame, taken under subdued museum lighting, is technically demanding—no flash, no stabilisation crutches. The man’s puzzled posture, caught mid-thought, leaning ever so slightly forward, tells its own story of trying to decipher Braque’s textured language. I shot wide open with a 35mm Summicron, relying on the M9’s signature rendering to isolate the subject from the gentle blur of the gallery background. Focus landed precisely on the man’s ear and temple, leaving the rest to dissolve into soft, painterly tones. The cool ambient light plays off the wall and his scarf—an accidental nod to the blue hue in the…
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The Chess Players
Well, this is not Alechin vs Capablanca but… who cares? The photograph captures two men deep in thought over a chessboard, in what appears to be the dim, warm interior of a Brussels café. One sits with his back to the camera, the word Corvette stitched boldly across his jacket. The other, leaning forward with his hand pressed to his temple, peers at the pieces through half-slipped glasses. Between them, the board sits in a pool of light — the only element in sharp enough focus to feel anchored — while the surrounding chairs and tables fade softly into the background. Compositionally, I opted for a perspective that placed the…
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An Intense Conversation
Some photographs hold silence. This is one of them. Shot in a small restaurant in Bruxelles — the kind you’d only find by chance, and never the same way twice — this frame preserves what no longer can be: a place, a conversation, a quiet evening at a table now vanished. Two women sit facing one another, generations apart, mirrored by the soft geometry of light and posture. One speaks — or perhaps listens. The other waits — or perhaps remembers. Their hands do most of the talking, resting, folding, rising to punctuate a point. There’s water on the table, a half-empty bottle, a flickering red votive. Nothing staged. Everything…
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Skating on the streets of Milan
Late in the evening, Milan had thinned out and the spaces between people became wider. The man in the frame was crossing the street with a deliberate, slightly laboured movement, his body pitched forward as if negotiating both balance and direction. His orange trousers and red jacket stood out sharply against the muted tones of the pavement and the buildings—a small burst of colour in a subdued urban palette. What drew me in was the intersection of stillness and motion. The green pedestrian light glowed steadily above him, indifferent to the slowness of his crossing. Around him, the city carried on in fragments: the illuminated bank window, the muted signage,…
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Out of Focus, again
Again a non intended, out-of-focus image – missed shot, in other words. Nevertheless I like the “visual” effect.
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None of Your Business
Shot in Milan, this image hinges on a moment of urban simultaneity: the pedestrian engrossed in his phone and the cyclist passing through the frame. The visual connection is understated yet effective, with the pedestrian’s green-tinted shadow cast sharply against the shutter, adding an almost theatrical element. The composition relies heavily on negative space — the expanse of blank wall heightens the sense of isolation between the two figures and allows the eye to rest before moving between them. The cyclist’s position towards the right edge introduces just enough tension, a suggestion of fleeting presence as he is about to leave the scene. The choice to keep both in the…
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The Wild Bunch
Our for shopping at the wrong time!
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Walking at Night, in Milan
There’s a peculiar calm in Milan once the crowds have dispersed and the city settles into its late-night rhythm. This photograph captures that quiet moment — a lone figure walking through the porticoed gallery, flanked by shuttered shops and covered windows, lit by the cool precision of artificial light. The receding row of lamps creates a tunnel effect, pulling the eye straight down the corridor, while the solitary pedestrian provides both a human scale and a focal point. From a compositional standpoint, the image benefits from strong leading lines. The symmetry of the architecture is slightly offset by the human element, keeping the frame from becoming sterile. The repetition of…
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The Casual Observer
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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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A useless photo
When I pressed the shutter for this frame, I had that small, smug feeling a photographer gets when the light seems to behave and the histogram looks civilised. The Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II in Milan — with its glass-vaulted ceiling, ornate façades, and marble floors — is a location that practically hands you a composition on a silver platter. Symmetry is built into its bones. But then I went home and did the thing every street and travel photographer dreads: I Googled it. The search results were a flood of nearly identical shots, all taken from the same central axis, all with the same forced symmetry, all showing off the…
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Urban Scavenger
I photographed this scene late at night, drawn by the way a single pool of light exposed the fragments of urban life that usually go unnoticed. The gull was feeding on scraps by the kerb, a plastic cup discarded nearby, while traffic and people passed outside the frame. What emerged was a study of survival in the margins of the city, where wildlife and waste collide under sodium lamps. Compositionally, the image hinges on that triangle of illumination falling across the pavement. The lit area acts almost like a stage, isolating the bird against the darker periphery. I placed the gull slightly off-centre, letting the curved kerb and the lines…
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The Restorer’s Nest
Bringing back to life what was nearly lost
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A Quiet Evening
… in the heart of Rome, an old trattoria let people enjoy a quiet diner.
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Behind the News
He stands in full sun, blazer buttoned, shirt crisp, mic in hand — delivering his segment with composure. It’s a classic image: the field reporter, live from the square, holding the line between chaos and clarity. But move the lens just a little wider, and the story changes. Because behind the camera, a different truth unfolds. The cameraman, sleeves rolled up, and the tourists slouched in the shade — legs stretched, sandals kicked off, hair tied up in the heat. They’re close enough to hear the words but completely removed from the illusion. And that’s the beauty of it: two realities, divided by a lens, staged in the same space.…
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Alone, Together…
Are they friends, or do they just share the table?
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Behind The Shaft
Taken from inside one of those old Roman elevators—small, slow, caged in iron. The kind you find tucked into the corner of a 19th-century palazzo, where the wood creaks and everything smells faintly of dust and time. This photo looks outward, through the gate. But in a way, it also looks inward. The gridded metal frame keeps your focus close. The world beyond is blurred just enough to feel distant. Stairs curve down somewhere out of view. The light is natural, soft, diffused. The rest is silence. There’s no action here. No drama. Just the texture of the old ironwork, hand-forged patterns now worn smooth by a hundred years of…
