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The Day After The Tide
After the tide, the river comes back to normality, while the boatmen account for the damages. I waited for the light to fall low enough to cut across the hulls and expose what the flood left behind. This isn’t a storm photo—it’s what follows. Boats grounded sideways, lines tangled, some afloat, some tilted into the banks. Nothing dramatic. Just consequence. Shot from the opposite bank with a 300mm telephoto, compressed enough to layer the damage. The image stacks: river in the foreground, boats mid-frame, wreckage and crane behind. The eye bounces between verticals—poles, masts, supports—and diagonals—listing decks and snapped canopies. It’s cluttered by design. Recovery never looks clean. Exposure leaned toward…
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Saving the Boat
The tide is coming, and a sailor works hard to protect his boat.
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A HDR Experiment
This is my first – and possibly, last – attempt of using HDR to post-process my pictures. Unless I’m able to get a more creative outcome, there is no reason to have pictures that look deadly similar to those of the other users of Nik Software Collection (as I am:))
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When the Tide Recedes
This scene struck me as more than just a visual curiosity—it posed a question. What doesn’t belong here: the boat or the car? The early evening light had just enough character to lift detail off the flat grey of the pavement and tease texture from the bark of the bare trees. The DA 50-135* handled the compression beautifully, allowing me to frame the boat prominently while holding the background activity—a fire truck, scattered people, and that lone parked car—in a shallow but still informative focus plane. I appreciated the restrained dynamic range of the K-5’s APS-C sensor here. The muted palette lends the image an autumnal melancholy, without needing the…
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So What?
Does anybody come to help me?
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The Sinking Giant
When I first looked through the viewfinder, it wasn’t just the subject’s size that struck me — it was the sense of resignation it carried. Whatever this structure had been, it now stood (or rather leaned) as a monument to time’s slow, unrelenting work. The corrosion, the flaking surfaces, the subtle but undeniable tilt — all of it spoke of something once imposing now quietly giving way. I decided not to centre it perfectly in the frame. Shifting it slightly off-balance seemed to amplify that uneasy lean, letting the structure’s weight and weariness spill into the empty space beside it. I wanted the composition to feel as though the giant…
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Up Where the World Unfolds
Some things — and some beings — refuse to stay where they are expected. This small mushroom, instead of emerging humbly from the soil like its kin, chose a perch on a weathered branch, lifted just high enough to see more of the world. I don’t know if fungi can be ambitious, but the sight of it certainly suggested a story of quiet defiance. I positioned the camera so the log would slice horizontally through the frame, letting the mushroom rise like a solitary sentinel against the blurred green backdrop. The shallow depth of field was essential here: it isolates the subject while allowing the texture of the bark and…
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Under the Bridge
Here I am again with a video…
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Good Manners
… comes from childhood
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Wave Riders
It was just matter of time before I decided to go video. A lot of work to do before even think of getting some result…
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In a yellowtone…
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Parachute
Didn’t have a wider lens, so I got the most interesting part of the frame…
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L’estate sta finendo…
L’estate sta finendo (the Summer is going to end) sang and old tune by The Righeira. It might have been a carefree Italo Disco anthem, but here its title feels almost literal. In this image, the end of summer is measured not in falling leaves, but in the silent rows of yellow sunbeds—upright, slightly askew, ready to be cleaned and stored. The repetition of form is the photograph’s backbone. Eleven chairs (or nearly so—one is cropped out on each side) form a neat yet imperfect line, their bright fabric glowing against the more muted tones of the stone and the soft grey-blue sky. The high-key yellow works almost like an…
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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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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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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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Early Morning Shaving on The Beach
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EOS-M. An Act of Fairness
I’ve been anything but gentle in my assessment of the Canon EOS-M’s street photography credentials. In the chaos of fast-moving urban life, it has always felt a step behind — hesitant where others are decisive. But fairness demands balance, and in the stillness of landscape work, this little mirrorless manages to surprise. This frame, taken with the humble 18-55mm stabilised kit lens, shows the EOS-M in its element. The river’s current twists and glides across the frame, textures shifting from silky blur to glassy detail, the greens of moss and the reddish undertones of the rocks holding their place against the moving water. The stabilisation works in quiet partnership with…
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A Lost Towel
No one around. Just sun, sand, and something left behind. The beach was empty when I passed through—early or late, hard to say—but this towel was there, alone, crumpled and vivid. Its colours refused to blend in: yellows, reds, a printed image of something once meaningful, now half-folded by the wind. It didn’t look forgotten. It looked abandoned. What caught my eye more than the towel was what surrounded it: tyre marks, footprints, all criss-crossing paths layered into the sand. As if everyone passed by but no one stopped. It felt recent, but not urgent—like whoever left it didn’t mean to come back. The shot came together quickly. Low angle…
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A chat on a lake shore
Countless photos like that have been shot. But enjoying a good moment together always deserves to be recorded
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Fashionable’s shots
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Rest on the lake
enjoying some fruit.
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A lighter
…left for somebody to come, or hidden by someone who just left?
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Who dares…
… wins (for the non-English speakers, the sign says: “Danger: crossing, jumping, trespassing forbidden”)
