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Negrita’s Cover Band
They still need to walk a long, long way before getting in sight of the original Negrita. Nevertheless they have a lot of fun…
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Rockabilly
Not stylish, not “clean”, not “intellectual”… but damn fun!!
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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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Night Serenade
Is there anything more romantic?
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Come on in…
What will you find at the end of the corridor? The frame pulls you inward. The eye enters through the shadowed foreground, past the blurred figure standing half in, half out of the light, and begins its slow walk down the corridor. The walls, cracked and weathered, carry the patina of time. Arched ceilings recede rhythmically, each arch framing the next, each doorway leading you further inside. Along the path, framed photographs lean against the walls, their colours softened by the dim light. They are not hung with formality; they rest casually, like travellers waiting to be claimed. The projector to the right hints at moving images, yet here, everything feels…
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Nico Cilli Band@Chiostro Comunale – Città S.Angelo
A few shots from a reportage I did during a jazz gig.
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Suspicious
What’s wrong, dude?
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Reminiscenses From The Past
Lost in memories, while the world turns.
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The Casual Observer
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While Waiting for the Food
Somewhere coastal, sometime after sundown. The table is set, the drinks half gone, the plates not yet full. It’s the in-between moment—the pause before the meal arrives, when conversation either deepens or disappears. He’s on his phone, thumb scrolling with purpose, eyes locked to the glow. Around him, the restaurant hums: plastic chairs, thatched roof, barefoot kids running between tables, the usual clatter of dishes and casual voices. A holiday place, probably. Warm air, sea salt, and time meant to be slower. What struck me was not the act—because it’s common—but the woman across from him. Half-hidden, partly blurred, yet watching. Not annoyed, not angry. Just watching. The kind of…
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Vinyl Never Dies
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The Doorman
Night work has its own silence, even when it’s loud. I made this frame just before the crowd arrived — a kind of photographic inhale before the push and pull of a Saturday night began. The doorman stands alone, his posture almost statuesque, braced against the neon wash of the venue’s lighting. The composition leans heavily on verticality. I intentionally let the figure anchor the centre, framed between structural elements and artificial glow. It’s an image of solitude and readiness, not action — and that contrast is what I wanted to preserve. The light is tough: mixed colour temperatures, harsh reflections, and flat backgrounds. But I didn’t correct it. It…
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The Silent Dialog
Sometimes, two subjects share a conversation without exchanging a word. In this case, the dialogue exists between man and stone — between the jogger, resting mid-route, and the towering marble column in front of him. The stillness of the sculpture contrasts with his barely contained energy, as though the pause is only temporary before motion resumes. The composition is anchored by geometry. The bollards form a rhythm across the foreground, pulling the eye toward the seated figure. The column rises almost dead-centre in the frame, lending a sense of vertical authority, while the urban backdrop — palms, apartments, the waiting truck — situates the scene in the ordinary present, far…
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Sleep Wins
I found them in that fragile hour when night hasn’t fully given up and the day hasn’t quite claimed the streets. Two bodies slumped against a shuttered shopfront, graffiti curling behind them like a silent narrator. They weren’t staged, of course — this was simply where exhaustion decided to settle. With the Canon EOS-M paired to the EF-M 18–55, I had the flexibility to frame them in a way that gave space for the scene to breathe. The late light worked in my favour, sliding in at an angle that brought warmth to their skin tones while pulling texture from the cold metal behind them. The graffiti, soft enough not…
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A Puff of Smoke
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Bycicle Ride
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Afternoon’s Mumbling
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Pillars Of The Beach
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The Nightmare
Last night, at what should have been an intimate tango exhibition, I was reminded how delicate the relationship between photographer, performer, and audience really is. It’s a balance of presence and discretion — a dance of our own, if you will — and when one party missteps, the whole atmosphere can falter. The image I took here is less about the aesthetics of tango than about an interruption to its magic. In the foreground stands a photographer, camera raised, entirely absorbed in his task. The moon glows softly above him, the darkness swallowing most of the scene, but it’s clear enough to see the intent concentration on his face. Off…
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Staring At The Infinite
Shot on a quiet coastline, this image started as a spontaneous exercise in balance and distance—two figures set against the immeasurable vastness of the sea. The horizon offered a natural axis, both dividing and uniting the sky and the water, while the couple, placed slightly off-centre, became the emotional anchor. I chose a moderate focal length to avoid exaggerating depth or flattening perspective. The intent was to render the vastness not as spectacle, but as presence—imposing yet still intimate. The sea is not in fury, nor calm; it simply is, stretching without end behind them. That’s the metaphor I was after. Compositionally, I leaned on symmetry without being rigid. The…
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When The Passion Is Gone (thank to a sneaky photographer)
The close-up delivers a feeling of hot passion, as often tangueros do. But a wider view, including that sneaky photographer, kills the mood.
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High Heels Ghost
I took this on a Saturday night, tripod low, exposure long. The street was busy but silent—one of those moments when you hear the city breathe between footsteps and engines. She passed quickly, dressed for somewhere else, but the shutter stayed open just long enough to erase her features and leave only motion. She became a spectre. Legs firm, heels sharp, but the torso blurred into translucence. It wasn’t planned. I wanted to catch life, but what emerged was absence—graceful, flickering, unresolved. That duality between presence and erasure fascinated me. Compositionally, it’s a static stage: parked cars, rough bark, municipal geometry. The frame’s symmetry anchors the chaos of the motion…
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Saturday Night’s Ice Cream
This image was taken late one summer evening, in that quiet stretch after dinner but before the streets empty out. The man in the frame is devouring his ice cream like it’s the first proper moment he’s had to himself all day—elbows on knees, back curved forward, eyes fixed on the cone like it holds more than just pistachio and stracciatella. Technically speaking, the photograph is far from pristine. Handheld in low light with a slow shutter and high ISO, the noise creeps in and sharpness suffers. But I don’t mind that. Precision wasn’t the priority here. What I wanted was to capture a trace of stillness in motion, a…
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When We Were Kids
