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The Unconvinced Listener
This was one of those shots where the scene composed itself. I didn’t need to move much—just recognise and release the shutter. What drew me in was the geometry of the interaction: a makeshift stage, oversaturated lighting washing the performers in synthetic blue, and in the foreground, a single man caught mid-gesture, possibly clapping, possibly holding a phone, or perhaps neither—his posture uncertain and unaligned with the music unfolding metres ahead. The band, framed neatly under the overhang of a modern tram stop, seems to exist in its own world, driven by rhythm, sequins, and stage light bravado. They’re working hard. But the man in the foreground? He’s not buying…
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Waiting For The Elections
Shot on a Leica M9 with a Zeiss Biogon 35mm f/2.8, this image is more about suspension than action. The frame holds a waiting posture — literally and metaphorically. No speeches, no slogans, just the inertia of democratic process taking over the political machinery. I wanted to convey stillness without silence. The Biogon’s rendering gave me that microcontrast and edge clarity I rely on when details matter more than gestures. The M9 sensor — as unpredictable as it can be in mixed light — held together the tonal values well here, especially in the midtones. Shadow detail was secondary; this wasn’t about hiding or revealing, but about the unresolved pause…
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Though Choice
It doesn’t take much to make your day happy.
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Zebra Crossing, Again…
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No, You Don’t Need To Change Your Glasses
This was intentional. No missed autofocus, no technical glitch. I set the lens manually, focused nowhere, and waited for someone to walk into the blur. He did—carrying two bright yellow bags, dressed sharply but casually, perfectly unremarkable in the sharp world we expect from street photography. The concept was simple: remove clarity and see what remains. What I found was structure. Colour. Gait. Gesture. A kind of abstraction that doesn’t erase the human, just detaches it from identification. No face. No detail. But still a presence. Technically, the image defies critique by design. It isn’t sharp—at all. The highlights push into soft bloom, the street dissolves into haze, and the…
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Lost In Barcelona’s Beauty
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The Lost Lock
The photograph is focused on the weathered surface of a wooden door, its grain worn deep by time and use. At the centre sits a latch, secured by a small brass pin, surrounded by the scars of previous fittings. Above it, oversized keyholes mark the door’s history of repairs and replacements, each shadow stretching long across the wood in the midday light. Technically, the image is about texture and shadow. The exposure favours the roughness of the timber, rendering every fissure and nail hole in sharp detail. The sunlight is strong, but instead of washing out the surface, it enhances contrast, pulling the metallic coldness of the lock against the…
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Thirsty
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Just In Case
Should you have some doubt, by reading the banner you can’t be mistaken. Clarity can be a virtue, even when it delivers its message with the blunt weight of inevitability. Here, a simple blue sign announces the location of the mortuary—not just once, but three times, in three languages. French, Latin, English. No ambiguity, no chance of misunderstanding. Just in case. The composition frames the sign against the muted greys of the surrounding architecture, a deliberate choice to strip away distractions. The words stand out, rendered in stark, functional typography, their neutrality belying the emotional weight of the place they indicate. Photography thrives on layers of meaning, and here the…
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Ni État Ni Patron
Brussels. A quiet wall, a passing car, and a message that’s louder than both. The slogan is old—older than the paint used to scrawl it—Ni État Ni Patron. No state, no boss. A phrase that echoes from factories, barricades, pamphlets. And now, here it is again, on a half-covered stretch of rendered concrete. It wasn’t written to decorate. It was written to remain. The graffiti stands out not just for what it says, but for where it says it: in the middle of a freshly patched rectangle, painted over what was clearly another message before it. The wall becomes a palimpsest—layers of resistance, erasure, and return. Below it, a car…
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Poetry Still Survives
Blessed be the city, where somebody can earn his day, by selling poetry.
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Caged?
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Much Too Powerful a Knock…
The subject here is as straightforward as it gets: a wall, framed by rusted metal edges, and a hole clean enough to suggest sudden, concentrated force. The image works because it refuses embellishment — no dramatic angles, no post-production theatrics, just a direct record of an event’s aftermath. Compositionally, the vertical framing contains the scene like a display case, while the rust on either side breaks the monotony of the pale plaster. The crack lines radiating from the impact point add an organic texture, guiding the viewer’s eye back to the centre. The absence of any human figure allows the imagination to dwell on cause and consequence. From a technical…
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Siamese Boats On the Seine River
Two barges, TEMPO and VESTA, lashed together as if bound by some unspoken pact, making their way up the Seine. Seen from above, their pairing creates a symmetry that is almost architectural. The way their bows slice the water in unison feels more like choreography than navigation. The shot was taken from a bridge, directly aligned with their approach, which allowed me to keep both vessels centred and parallel in the frame. That alignment is crucial — a slight offset would have made the composition feel off-balance. Here, the geometry holds everything together: two hulls, two decks, two names, and a doubling of anchor motifs. The light was soft but…
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Who Needs A Wedding Photographer Anymore?
I took this picture at a friend’s wedding. Though there was an “official” photographer, almost all of the attendees did their own “service”. They spent the majority of their time (and of their mobiles’ batteries) by obstructing the professionals on duty to get mostly irrelevant and low quality pictures. This is the main reason I chose not do weddings and – in general – ceremonies.
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The Teleferic de Montjiuc
I framed this high, tight, and in monochrome. The tower holds its geometry clean against a washed-out sky, bisected by the tension of support cables that anchor the structure both physically and compositionally. The decision to exclude ground and context wasn’t aesthetic—it was structural. I wanted the image to stand on line, angle, and steel alone. Shot with a mid-telephoto to flatten depth slightly and reduce parallax across the girders. The light was diffuse but not flat. A break in the clouds gave enough gradient to define planes without creating shadow noise. The exposure leaned conservative: highlights retained in the clouds, midtones preserved in the riveted panels and pulleys. No…
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The Skeptical Listener
While a politician addresses his audience, a skeptical listener think of how many times she’ve been there before…
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Whatever You Stand For, Vote!
A large digital screen mounted on the exterior of a modern building, prominently announces the European Elections scheduled for 22–25 May 2014. The display uses a bright, cool-toned light that contrasts sharply with the dark perforated metal surface behind it, ensuring high visibility even in daylight. The message is framed within clean geometric lines, reinforcing the institutional clarity of the communication.
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Under an Old Roof
A scrap of newspaper clings to the surface of a wooden beam, yellowed by time, softened by dust. The print advertises used cars, once a promise of mobility and new beginnings, now only a faded record of another era. Above, the roof beams reveal gaps, through which light seeps, fractured and uncertain, illuminating what remains. The photograph works in layers: the brittle newsprint, the rough wood, the dim background of tiles and sky. Each element bears marks of age, but together they tell a quiet story of storage, neglect, and survival. It is less about the subject itself than about what it represents—the persistence of the ordinary beneath the erosion…
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The Hamlet’s Dilemma
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Somewhere in Japan
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Portrait of Keyboard Player
He had just finished a piece when I took the shot. Head tilted, hand still resting on the keys, that slight smirk not forced but earned. This wasn’t posed—it was a breath between moments, a performer halfway out of character and halfway into self-awareness. The ambient energy of the room still swirled around him—soft voices, chairs moving, blurred motion in the background—but he held still. I composed tight to emphasise the contrast between stillness and motion. The background drags slightly, figures abstracted by a slower shutter speed, but the face and fingers are crisp—anchoring the shot where it needs to be. The lighting was mixed: tungsten overhead, cooler light from…
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A Fountain
I made this photograph in a small corner where a public fountain once served a purpose. Now it stands fenced in by corrugated metal sheeting, isolated, its basin removed, its function suspended. The graffiti—“un po’ di panna”—is not aggressive. It reads more like a private joke left in public space, a whisper rather than a shout. That small phrase is what drew my eye first. It adds a voice to an object that has otherwise been silenced. The metal barrier creates an accidental stage. Its vertical ridges repeat across the background, directing the gaze inward toward the fountain. The pink stone base, stained and unevenly worn, introduces texture and a…
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Yes, We…Can
I took this photo because it stopped me mid-step. A banal object — a crushed Coca-Cola can — pierced on a historic stone spike, suspended in defiance or perhaps pure indifference. The tension between the industrial red cylinder and the worn, centuries-old limestone was too stark to ignore. The composition leaned heavily on perspective and focus. I shot wide open, letting the background melt into soft abstraction, just enough to hint at an ancient setting without overpowering the main subject. I tilted the frame slightly to echo the absurd balance of the can, breaking away from textbook horizontality to embrace the odd equilibrium of the scene. Exposure was critical. I…
