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Il barbiere di Siviglia – Don Bartolo mad at Rosina
A shot from the mise en scene of the Il Barbiere di Siviglia I did as a scene-photgrapher for the Teatro Marrucino
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Counter-intuitive Focus
This photo I took during a reportage for a theatre hosting a concert of Uto Ughi shows a counter-intuitive use of focusing. Rather than go for the obvious option, the attention is shifted on the two musicians in the background capturing their concentration, with the leading violin blurred and conceptually, thus, ‘left behind’. The global effect is reinforced by a neat separation between the dark and light parts of the frame.
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The Power of Underexposing
This portrait was built in the shadows. Underexposing by design meant letting darkness dominate the frame, allowing only the essentials — the face, the glint of an earring, the folds of the dress — to emerge. The result is a scene stripped of distraction, where every visible element has earned its place. The composition is weighted to the left, pulling the viewer into the subject’s gaze and leaving negative space to amplify the drama. The rich crimson of the gown benefits from the controlled exposure: under normal lighting, its details might have flattened into uniform red; here, the fabric’s texture and the embroidery’s sparkle gain depth from the way light…
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Davide Grotta – Live
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Marianna D’ama – Live
The stage is barely the size of a rug. The audience—two dozen at most—sits within arm’s reach. There is no spotlight to hide behind, no sound engineer to balance the mix, no roaring crowd to dissolve into. Just a voice, an instrument, and the intimacy of shared air. In this photograph, the singer leans into the microphone with the same intensity one might expect in front of thousands. Her eyes are half-closed, her body wrapped around the rhythm, maracas held like extensions of her heartbeat. The grain of the black and white frame amplifies the sense of proximity—every shadow a whisper, every highlight a breath. House concerts are unforgiving in…
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Caparezza – Live@Palamaggetti Roseto degli Abruzzi
Live performance photography is unforgiving. Light shifts without warning, the subjects never stand still, and meaning happens between beats. Here, I caught the performer mid-gesture — head bowed, arms bent — a pose that felt choreographed yet spontaneous, devotion laced with exhaustion. I made this photograph during a Caparezza concert, deep in that controlled chaos where theatre and music collide. The performer’s costume, a surreal mix of symbols and satire, caught the stage light like an icon in distortion — a living metaphor for the artist’s social commentary. I wanted to preserve that tension: sacred imagery reframed as pop spectacle. The expression mattered less than the posture. That bend forward,…
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Caparezza – Live@Palamaggetti Roseto degli Abruzzi
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Max Casacci – Live@Circolo Aternino, Pescara
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Los Niños y El Tocaor
The guitarist was Pedro Navarro, and he played with the kind of intimate conviction that can silence a room without demanding it. I took the shot during a flamenco recital in a modest Spanish cultural venue, one of those places where chairs creak and plaster flakes off the walls, but the soul is palpable. What caught me wasn’t just the precision of his fingers on the strings, or the deliberate slowness of the opening compás—it was the quiet appearance of the two boys at the back. Dressed like miniature adults, suspended in a corridor of sound and formality, unsure whether to stay or move on. One places a hand on…
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Ramón Jarque, tocaor
I have always found that photographing musicians is less about the performance and more about the moments in between — the quiet exchanges between player and instrument. In this portrait of Ramón Jarque, I wanted to strip away the spectacle and capture him in a state of private dialogue with his guitar. The composition is simple, almost understated. I framed Ramón in profile, letting the lines of his arm and guitar neck lead the viewer’s eye diagonally across the image. The background, with its blurred wine bottles and textured wall, is just present enough to provide context without intruding on the intimacy of the moment. Depth of field is shallow,…
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Interpreti Veneziani – Vivaldi’s Four Seasons Live@San Vidal
I took this photograph in the interval just after the final piece had ended. The applause was still fading, and the musicians were easing out of performance mode and back into themselves. That is the moment I am often most drawn to—the release, the unguarded shift from concentration to relief or quiet joy.
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Gary O’ Toole
Photographing live music is an exercise in timing, anticipation, and luck — and this frame of Gary O’Toole behind his kit captures all three in motion. I shot this during a concert where the energy on stage was matched only by the enthusiasm in the audience. Gary, in his element, was caught mid-expression, the sort of look that comes only when a musician is entirely at one with his instrument. Compositionally, the image works through a layered perspective: the guitarist’s back in the foreground leads the viewer’s gaze directly toward the drummer, framed by the gleaming brass of the cymbals and the forest of hardware. That over-the-shoulder view adds intimacy,…
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Nick Beggs
Nick Beggs isn’t just a musician—he’s a presence. Capturing him live isn’t about nailing the perfect frame, it’s about riding the wave of his performance and locking it into a split second. I took this shot during one of those dense, layered passages where the light is moody and the mix is full. He stood immersed in the music, double-neck bass cradled like a weapon or a relic, commanding and concentrated. Technically, this photo walks a tightrope. Stage lighting can be merciless—strong contrasts, saturated colours, and constant shifts. I went for a low ISO to preserve detail, knowing I’d have to push shadows in post. The main light hit his…
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Nad Sylvan
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Steve Hackett – Live@Teatro d’Annunzio
The photograph captures Steve Hackett in a moment of concentration, his gaze lowered towards the guitar as if the instrument itself were dictating the next phrase. The Les Paul glows under the stage lights, its golden surface reflecting the intensity of the performance, while Hackett’s expression remains measured and inward, suggesting a musician wholly absorbed in sound rather than spectacle. Framing is tight, keeping focus on Hackett and his guitar. The background, blurred yet luminous with stage reflections, provides atmosphere without distraction. It isolates him in the act of playing, the performer reduced to essentials: hands, instrument, sound. Technically, the exposure handles difficult stage lighting competently. The blue tones of…
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Genta Fukue live@Sakura Terrace – Kyoto
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A Cello Player
This image was taken in the middle of a performance, at the point where the music pulls the musician fully inward. I was close enough to see the grip of his hand on the cello’s neck, the subtle tension in the fingers, the faint sheen of perspiration on his scalp under the stage lights. The head is bowed, almost in communion with the instrument, and the surrounding orchestra falls into a soft blur. I used a shallow depth of field to separate him from the background, letting the warm browns of the cello resonate against the darker suit, while the out-of-focus fellow musicians form nothing more than hints of presence.…
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Play It Again, Sam!
I took this photograph in a small, intimate room where music wasn’t just performed — it was lived. The man seated at the keyboard was deep into a Scarlatti sonata, his hands moving with the assured precision of someone who has played these notes countless times. Standing beside him, another man — perhaps a fellow musician, perhaps a connoisseur — seemed half in conversation, half in silent appreciation, his clasped hands suggesting both restraint and involvement. The space itself lent to the scene: a polished wooden floor, a framed certificate on the wall, bookshelves behind, and the warm light that tends to fill places dedicated to quiet craft. The harpsichord’s…
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The Choir Master
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Interplay
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A Focused (or Sad) Violinist
There are moments in photography when ambiguity becomes its greatest strength. A Focused (or Sad) Violinist captures one of those moments—a fleeting expression caught between concentration and melancholy, leaving the viewer unsure which emotion truly takes precedence. The composition is deliberately layered, with the foreground figure—out of focus—providing a soft frame for the central subject. This technique draws the eye directly to the violinist, whose gaze is fixed slightly to the side, lost either in the music or in a private thought. The choice to work with a shallow depth of field accentuates her presence while allowing the surrounding players to dissolve into a gentle blur, reinforcing the sense of…
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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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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;…
