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Portrait of a Bailaor
It’s not the dance itself. Not the movement. Not the raised heel or arched arm. It’s the moment in between. I took this portrait during a flamenco performance—close up, no motion blur, no sweeping gesture. Just a still frame of pure tension. The bailaor had just stepped out of a phrase. His hair wet from exertion, shirt unbuttoned from heat. He was motionless, but the intensity hadn’t left. It was gathering. What struck me wasn’t the obvious theatricality. It was the way his focus seemed to cut straight through the light. His jaw tight, eyes narrowed, not toward the crowd, but somewhere inward. Flamenco isn’t about smiling through the steps. It’s about…
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Portrait of a Judo Master
The heritage of Kano Jigoro is still alive. The sensei is caught slightly off-centre, mid-step, his gaze lowered rather than directed at the camera. The gi is worn, functional, unadorned. It carries the marks of use rather than ceremony. His posture is relaxed but grounded, suggesting familiarity with the space and with his own body within it. Nothing here is posed, and that is precisely where the portrait gains its weight. There is no throw, no grip exchange, no demonstrative movement. He expresses authority not through force but through a quiet, meaningful, presence. In the background, softly out of focus, hangs the photograph of Kano Jigoro. It is not framed…
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Protezione Civile
Kudos to those who volunteer to help.
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Night Shift At The Gas Station
The cold was real. It soaked through the synthetic layers, condensed on every metal surface, and wrapped this frame in its own damp silence. What drew me to release the shutter wasn’t the uniform or the pump, but the stillness — a kind of pause in the machinery of necessity. This man, anonymous but emblematic, stood under the artificial glow of sodium light, framed by geometry and function. Technically, this isn’t a sharp image — and I’m glad it’s not. The slight blur works to its advantage, echoing the condensation on the glass through which I shot, or maybe just the fatigue of a night too long. The colours, though,…
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Meaningless
Sometimes it’s easier to tell what a photograph is not than to explain what it is. This frame, taken outside a small tabaccheria, is a case in point. It’s not sharp — the slight blur suggests either a slow shutter speed with handheld movement or an unintentional misfocus. It’s not correctly exposed either — the bright areas, particularly the pavement and parts of the foliage, are overexposed, washing out detail and flattening the scene. Compositionally, it struggles to find an anchor. The woman in the doorway and the man at the vending machine might form the core of a story, but the foreground foliage, tilted horizon, and lack of depth…
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Fishermen in Rome, Again
There’s no better way to enjoy a sunny day in Rome. The photograph opens with three figures at the river’s edge, their backs turned to the viewer, their attention fixed on the slow, opaque flow of the Tiber. The morning light is soft but clear, stretching shadows across the worn concrete embankment. Fishing rods angle out over the water, each line vanishing into the muted surface where the river holds its secrets. The composition is deliberate in its restraint. By placing the subjects with their faces hidden, the image shifts focus from identity to posture. Each fisherman holds a distinct physical rhythm: the man in the green jacket standing upright, central…
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The Ipad Shooter. Who needs a Nikon D4 anymore?
The photograph captures an all-too-familiar scene in today’s public spaces: a traveller, squatting low on cobblestones, pink suitcase upright beside her, tablet in hand, angling for the perfect shot. The background is busy with pedestrians, idling vehicles, and the ordered chaos of an urban square—but the focal point is the incongruity of the act itself. Not a DSLR slung over the shoulder. Not even a compact mirrorless. Instead, a bright orange tablet becomes the instrument of choice. CompositionThe image benefits from deliberate framing. The subject sits slightly off-centre to the left, allowing the surrounding space to breathe. This choice draws the eye first to her and the bold block of…
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A Mysterious Bag
Big enough to contains a whole life…
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A Fisherman in Rome
There is a quiet irony in standing on the banks of the Tiber, camera in hand, and seeing this scene unfold — a solitary fisherman, rod extended, gazing into the slow, opaque water. Just a few metres above, Rome hums and roars: scooters weave through traffic, tourists cluster at monuments, and shopkeepers call out in markets. Down here, however, time seems to flow at the river’s pace — unhurried, stubbornly indifferent to the world above. From a compositional standpoint, the photograph makes good use of negative space. The wide expanse of muted, silty water forms a calm, almost monotone backdrop that lets the figure of the fisherman stand out without…
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The Last Icecream?
I was drawn to the quiet anticipation layered between three figures, each framed by glass, glare, and gesture. The woman in the foreground, partially silhouetted in a hoodie, acts as the emotional anchor — patient, uncertain, her posture leaning subtly forward. She could be next, or just waiting. The man to her right, elderly, suited, stoic, exists in quiet counterpoint. And behind the counter, blurred yet bright, the server becomes an abstract suggestion of service or denial. It’s the moment before transaction — a gesture paused in the theatre of everyday life. Technically, the image is soft, and I’m fine with that. Focus falls more on atmosphere than detail. Depth…
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Portrait of a young scholar
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Portrait of a Wrestler
There’s a particular weight to portraits of athletes, especially those whose craft is as primal and disciplined as wrestling. When I took this photograph, I wanted to strip away the spectacle of the sport—no mats, no crowds, no action—and focus instead on the man behind the contest. The framing is deliberately close, the upper torso and head taking dominance in the composition. The subject’s direct gaze into the lens is neither aggressive nor performative; it’s a quiet, steady presence. The choice of black and white enhances this honesty, removing any distraction of colour and forcing the viewer to engage with form, texture, and light. In the background, out of focus,…
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Portrait of a Master luthier
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Portrait of a politician – 1
There’s a certain pleasure in photographing with the Leica M9—a camera that rewards precision and patience rather than machine-gun bursts. This portrait was made in a crowded hall, the politician seated among an audience whose attention was turned toward the stage. The light was far from forgiving, a mix of weak ambient and uneven spot sources, but the M9’s sensor responded with a tonal richness that digital cameras often lose in harsh conditions. I chose to work wide open, which gave me the shallow depth of field needed to isolate his face from the visual chaos around him. The crowd dissolves into a swirl of shapes and tonal smudges, leaving…
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Secret Beyond the Door
Who knows what they’re talking about?
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Tired or Fascinated?
Not so easy to tell… The question writes itself when you look at the scene. In the centre of the frame, a man stands before a long, textured painting. His arms are crossed, his head tilted slightly forward—posture locked in contemplation. The work before him, with its earthy tones and abstracted form, seems to have pulled him entirely into its orbit. He doesn’t glance away. In the foreground, two seated figures tell a different story. On the left, a woman in a red hoodie sits with a jacket draped across her lap, holding a booklet. Her gaze drifts outward, past the viewer, her expression suggesting the mental pause that comes after…
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Same Space, Different Worlds
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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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Portrait of aTocaor
There is no audience in the frame, no dancer to mark the beat, no palmas to answer the rhythm—just the tocaor, alone with his guitar. The photograph is intimate, stripped of spectacle, and in that simplicity lies its strength. Shot in black and white, the image pares down the moment to texture and expression. The grain and contrast evoke the deep tradition of flamenco portraiture, where the absence of colour invites the viewer to listen with their eyes. The focus is on the face—eyes closed, lips resting in concentration—as the player leans toward the neck of the guitar. This is not a performance for the world but an inward conversation,…
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A Sad Afternoon
… waiting for someone to call.
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Portrait of a Lawyer
Not every portrait needs a full frame. Sometimes, it’s what’s just out of focus that tells the most. Shot close—uncomfortably close—this image doesn’t try to flatter. It doesn’t seek symmetry or polish. The man’s on the phone, mid-thought, caught between reaction and restraint. His eyes are sharp, but not fixed. His hand rises instinctively to his face, as if shielding or steadying something unspoken. The photograph is grainy, the depth shallow. One lens, one second, one expression pulled between two worlds: the one he’s hearing and the one he’s trying to shape with his response. You don’t hear the voice on the other end, but you can sense it—by the…
