-
Small Talk
-
Luck is an Attitude
That’s an interesting catch. The Latin word for “luck” is “fortuna” that doesn’t mean “luck”, but “fate”. So I’d rather like to be, as an old aphorism from Appius Claudius Caecus says (“Fabrum esse quemque fortunae suae) the “builder of my own fate”.
-
Next Time, Maybe…
I made this image in one of those narrow alleys in central Brussels, where restaurants compete not just with food but with neon, colour, and attention. It’s visual overload by design. Menus on easels, signs screaming prices, waiters halfway between invitation and insistence. But what caught me wasn’t the display—it was the woman walking straight through, uninterested, unmoved. She wasn’t choosing where to eat. She was choosing not to. The photo hinges on that gesture. Her hands are in motion, her shoulders hunched from the cold, her gaze slightly lowered. She becomes the counterpoint to the street’s whole premise. All this effort around her, and none of it lands. That’s…
-
Ceci n’est pas un cadre
A few, different meanings. The most evident (?):it is a mirror, actually. Thus is not a peinture. The less evident: the title is a sleight of word on the famous Magritte’s masterwork “Ceci n’est pas une pipe“. The lesser evident: I shot the picture in Bruxelles, where is located the Magritte Museum.
-
Behind the Beer
Behind the beer’s sockets, a barman discretely fulfills the order placed by his clients.
-
An Altar for the Propaganda Machine
A powerful weapon, that equally served the good and the evil.
-
The Last Icecream?
Hopefully there is still something left…
-
Same Space, Different Worlds
Lost in their own business.
-
The Chess Players
Well, this is not Alechin vs Capablanca but… who cares? The photograph captures two men deep in thought over a chessboard, in what appears to be the dim, warm interior of a Brussels café. One sits with his back to the camera, the word Corvette stitched boldly across his jacket. The other, leaning forward with his hand pressed to his temple, peers at the pieces through half-slipped glasses. Between them, the board sits in a pool of light — the only element in sharp enough focus to feel anchored — while the surrounding chairs and tables fade softly into the background. Compositionally, I opted for a perspective that placed the…
-
An Intense Conversation
Some photographs hold silence. This is one of them. Shot in a small restaurant in Bruxelles — the kind you’d only find by chance, and never the same way twice — this frame preserves what no longer can be: a place, a conversation, a quiet evening at a table now vanished. Two women sit facing one another, generations apart, mirrored by the soft geometry of light and posture. One speaks — or perhaps listens. The other waits — or perhaps remembers. Their hands do most of the talking, resting, folding, rising to punctuate a point. There’s water on the table, a half-empty bottle, a flickering red votive. Nothing staged. Everything…
-
Lost in mumbling
-
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…
-
Vinyl Never Dies
-
The Doorman
Another hard night at the door is going to start.
-
A Puff of Smoke
-
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…
-
Aficionados
Shot at an hour when most are just negotiating their first coffee, this photograph captures what, for these men, seems like the golden hour of routine. The scene is lit by a low, uncompromising sun that slices across the facade with sharp clarity—rendering the textures of worn plaster, metal shutters, and red plastic chairs with the honesty of an observational sketch. I was drawn to this configuration because it needed no orchestration. It was already a tableau: three men, frontally exposed, anchored by Peroni-branded chairs, embodying a choreography of idleness. The fourth, half-turned with one leg outstretched and a cap shielding his gaze, punctuates the composition with a visual counter-rhythm.…
-
The Actor’s Nightmare
The light was soft, early evening. A lounge in perfect order—chairs aligned, menus standing, ashtrays clean. Everything ready for guests who haven’t arrived. Or maybe they already left. On the wall, a screen glows dimly. A face caught in grainy black and white, paused mid-thought. An actor from some old film, eyes fixed just off-centre. And here’s the strange thing: it looks like he’s watching the room. Looking straight at the empty chairs. That was the moment I took the frame. Not because the interior was elegant, though it was. Not because the light was dramatic, though it helped. But because the whole space felt like a stage no one…
-
An Evening Chat
The heat is unbearable in the evening of summer, but it doesn’t stop people from enjoying the outdoor nightlife.
-
Self-Defense
Three against one…
-
Portrait of a Waiter
Another day is going to start, and the ashtrays are ready to filled by the deadly dust…
-
Early Morning’s Cleanup
The time goes by, and the song remains the same. Work until late night, clean up early in the morning.
-
The Smoker’s Golden Rule: A Coffee Always Calls a Cigarette
There is something about certain rituals that photography seems almost predestined to document — moments that are less about the act itself and more about the pause in which it occurs. This image sits firmly in that territory. From a compositional perspective, the frame is constructed to let the viewer’s eye drift from one key element to another: the coffee cup, the ashtray, the faint tendrils of smoke, and perhaps even the hinted presence of the smoker just outside of view. The narrative is implicit; we know what is happening without needing to see it. This is the strength of suggestive framing — it trusts the audience to fill in…
-
Diner After the Show
Thank god there’s still a way to get some food, even at late night…
