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Fishing Shelter Under The Bridge
Photographs like this one always pull me in—not for their glamour, but for their quiet, unvarnished truth. This image, titled Fishing Shelter Under a Bridge, captures a space that seems to exist on the fringes: part makeshift workspace, part refuge, part survival mechanism. The fishing net suspended in the frame is not the tool of a hobbyist, but a means to secure food, a reminder of the precariousness of life for some. From a compositional perspective, the photograph is anchored by a strong sense of depth. The viewer’s eye is naturally drawn from the shaded, cluttered foreground toward the brighter, open water and the moored boats in the distance. The…
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London Swash
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Ready for lunch
An osteria table waits, set with blue cloth, inverted glasses, and neatly placed napkins. The chalkboard menu leans forward in the foreground, announcing “Pranzo Veloce” with its modest prices and straightforward promises. Chairs stand empty, the cobbled street quiet, yet the scene already holds the expectation of voices, cutlery, and conversation. Composition divides into two parts: the angled menu board on the left, pulling the eye with text and bold frame, and the table on the right, stable and orderly. The brick wall and wooden door in the background add texture and intimacy, rooting the setting firmly in an Italian street. The balance of objects, slightly off-centre, leaves space for…
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TicTacToe
There’s a curious satisfaction in photographing something utterly ordinary and discovering that it holds more visual weight than you’d expect. This playground tic-tac-toe frame caught my attention not because of its intended purpose — a children’s game — but because of its worn, slightly battered state. The fading X’s and O’s spoke of countless small hands spinning those yellow cubes, of games that probably never reached a conclusion before someone was called away for ice cream or a turn on the slide. I framed it dead-centre, allowing the game board to occupy most of the image, boxed in by the green plastic casing. The symmetry gives the photograph a formal,…
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The Road To Justice
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Lost Cellos
There’s something unsettling about musical instruments left alone. Cellos, in particular, carry a visual weight even when silent — the curve of the body, the arch of the bridge, the scroll’s delicate twist. In this scene, set against the pale facade of an Italian street, they lie scattered, leaning awkwardly against bright red plastic chairs, as though abandoned mid-performance. I was drawn to the tension between elegance and neglect. The geometry of the composition came naturally — the red chairs punctuating the frame, the arc of the white wall detail acting almost like a silent proscenium arch. The absence of people intensifies the stillness, making the instruments feel orphaned. From…
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A Fisherman
There is an honesty to this image that immediately draws me in — a straightforward, unembellished portrait of labour and craft. The fisherman, head bent in concentration, works his net with the steady rhythm of someone who has done this countless times before. The choice to focus on the act of repair, rather than the act of fishing, shifts the narrative from the sea’s drama to the quiet maintenance that sustains a livelihood. Compositionally, the photograph benefits from its use of leading lines. The fishing net, stretched out toward the left of the frame, guides the viewer’s gaze straight to the fisherman’s hands — the heart of the story. The…
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Red Curtains
It caught me as I was leaving a small trattoria, the kind where wine glasses reflect years of conversation and meals stretch long into the evening. The curtain—the protagonist here—isn’t just a physical separator. It’s a thin veil between what’s public and what should remain private. I let the fabric dominate the composition. Its translucent quality distorts the background just enough to suggest, not show. The folds create a rhythm, a vertical cadence against the more chaotic, lived-in blur of the interior. The exposure was tricky. Balancing the warmth of incandescent lighting with the saturation of the red was key—push too far, and the tones bleed; underexpose, and the shadows…
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A Broken Gearwheel
I came across this fragment of concrete by chance — two heavy, jagged halves lying on a bed of smooth stones, their shapes echoing the teeth of a gearwheel. It looked industrial, almost mechanical, yet entirely static and inert. There was no motion here, only the suggestion of it, frozen in decay. When I composed the frame, I aimed to make the gear the clear focal point while still allowing the surrounding textures to play their part. The roughness of the stone bed contrasts nicely with the flat, worn surface of the concrete pieces. The diagonal orientation of the gear halves gives the image a touch of dynamism that the…
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A Green Patch
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A Standup Paddleboarder
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Snorkeling
I made this photograph with a Pentax K-5 II and the humble SMC Pentax 18-55, a kit lens that, while often underestimated, has served me well in situations where flexibility is more important than technical perfection. Framing was a game of patience here. The snorkeller moved slowly into my line of sight, framed naturally by the foreground rocks, which form a rough vignette and create a sense of peeking into a private scene. This kind of natural framing can be both a gift and a curse: while it gives depth and directs the eye, it also forces me to deal with tricky metering. In this case, I exposed for the…
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When We Thought We Would Have Changed The World
I took this photograph at a street market, where these shirts hung in plain view, each one shouting a message of defiance. Slogans, graphics, and colours combined into a tapestry of protest, reminders of a time when politics and identity were worn quite literally on the chest. The immediacy of the words—ribelli sempre, non mi avrete mai come volete voi—speaks of resistance, of collective identity built in opposition to authority. I framed the image tightly to remove context and distractions. The viewer is left with nothing but the shirts, their messages, and the pins holding them up. This close composition turns an everyday street scene into a typographic study. The…
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Sea Anemones Shot With A Cheap Kit
A modest waterproof case. A curious eye. A tide pool teeming with colour and texture. This photograph captures more than just two sea anemones nestled in their rocky enclave. It captures the enduring truth that photography is not always about the gear — but about the gaze. No high-end housing, no bespoke optics — just patience, instinct, and the will to submerge the lens where it rarely dares to go. The shallow water refracts the light into a painterly softness. Reflections and shadows dance on the submerged stones. The vivid, almost surreal red of the anemones emerges against a muted background, revealing an alien world within reach of a…
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A Jazz-Manouche Guitar Player
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Waiting To Board At Santa Margherita Ligure
Crowds have their own choreography. This moment, taken on the waterfront of Santa Margherita Ligure, is less about any single subject and more about the small, unspoken narratives that weave together in a public space. Nobody is looking at the same thing, yet they are all connected by the same purpose — waiting for the boat. From a compositional standpoint, I deliberately let the frame fill with people, favouring density over isolation. The image works because of its layers: the foreground with its sharply focused details, the mid-ground of partially obscured figures, and the soft backdrop of the harbour and town. Each layer adds depth without distracting from the central…
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Under The Rocks
I made this photo from a pier, camera pointed straight down. No filter, no polariser — just sun, salt, and a moment of stillness on the surface. Below, the usual tangle of seaweed and barnacles on stone, but what caught me wasn’t the marine life — it was the way the water rearranged the image as I watched. Distortion became a kind of painterly gesture. The composition is almost accidental. I didn’t frame with precision — I let the edges fall where they would. The stone fills the middle, but it’s the border between water and air, between visibility and motion, that gives the photo its tension. You’re not just…
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Bless or Curse?
I took this photograph standing behind the statue, looking out over the marina. The choice of viewpoint was deliberate—front-facing statues are expected, almost ceremonial; from behind, they become more ambiguous. Without the expression to guide us, the outstretched arms could be offering a blessing to the yachts in the bay, or perhaps condemning their excess. The composition is simple but layered. The statue dominates the left third of the frame, creating a strong vertical anchor, while the open space of the sea and sky fills the rest. The boats, scattered across the water, offer points of visual interest without competing for attention. The horizon is placed high enough to balance…
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A Young Sailor in Open Sea
I made this photograph on a calm summer morning, the sea flat as polished glass and the light still gentle, skimming across the water like a whisper. The subject—a boy alone in an Optimist dinghy—caught my eye not for his skill or posture, but for the sheer quietness of the moment. He’s not posing. He’s not performing. He’s learning, observing, maybe hesitating. And in that brief hesitation, the photograph took shape. The composition is deliberately simple. The frame is tight enough to remove distractions, allowing the viewer to focus on the relationship between the sailor and his boat. His red lifejacket breaks the soft palette of blue and white, creating…
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Inside the Nazario Sauro
Looking through a watertight bulkhead of the Nazario Sauro, the cold geometry of war endures in steel, cables, dials and cathode-ray screens. The composition is structured by layers: iron framing, claustrophobic corridors, an old radar glowing faintly in the dark. Emptiness fills the frame, and yet it speaks of presence. Of watchfulness. Of command. There are no people here—only ghosts of orders barked, bearings plotted, torpedoes primed. Everything is still, museum-still. But the submarine’s essence hasn’t retired. Its mass, its function, its purpose remain engraved in the very angles and wires now dormant. A chair sits in front of the radar—straight, waiting, unoccupied. It could be yesterday, or seventy years ago.…
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Passage Lost
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Red Lock At Genova’s Dock Arsenal
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Generations – I
In a sunlit alley, life unfolds in layers of time. Two older men stand in conversation by a shuttered shop, their bodies relaxed yet anchored in the familiarity of routine. Their exchange is unhurried, belonging to a pace that has watched decades pass in these same streets. A few steps away, a man pushes a stroller through the narrow path, his back turned, moving forward into the day. In that simple motion, another generation is carried into the world—a reminder that time does not stand still, even in the most timeless corners of a city. The street itself seems to join the dialogue of generations. Tall, weathered buildings lean toward…
