-
An illuminated escape path will help you to reach the exits …
Not only when airborne.
-
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…
-
Rest On The Way Back Home
After a night of amusement, sleep can’t wait.
-
Pillars Of The Beach
-
Staring At The Infinite
Will this love lasts as much?
-
The Suit
How would it feel like, when everybody around goes to the beach, wearing a suit and going to the office?
-
The SoundMaster
You don’t usually see them—not really. They’re always there, but never in the spotlight. Still, without them, there wouldn’t be a show. I was at a concert recently, camera in hand, doing what I normally do—trying to catch something a little off-stage, something that tells the rest of the story. That’s when I spotted him: back to the crowd, eyes on the board, headphones hanging loose around his neck. Focused, steady. Doing the kind of work that only gets noticed when something goes wrong. I framed the shot from behind. The lights of the soundboard, all blinking and glowing, lit up the edges of his shirt—a simple icon of a…
-
Evolution of a Guitar Player
I left Roberto Di Virgilio more than ten years ago playing a Steinberger and I meet him again now, playing a Les Paul.
-
Head-Dresser
A market stall at first glance, and yet, a surreal composition unfolds. Plastic mannequin heads rise from wooden sticks, lined up with aloof dignity, each adorned with scarves and hats meant to lure the hurried passer-by. They stare silently into space, held aloft like modern-day trophies, eerily anthropomorphic yet stubbornly artificial. The display isn’t just for commerce—it’s unintentional theatre. The pun in the title Head-dresser plays cleverly on the expected hairdresser. But instead of grooming the living, this stall ‘dresses’ the disembodied, the ornamental. These mannequins are not being styled—they are the style, repurposed vessels for fashion’s utilitarian need. And to the side, a woman walks past in winter garb, seemingly unaware of…
