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Red Cross
Some photographs are taken instinctively, almost without the usual premeditation that guides my framing. This one emerged from a walk at night, when the glow of an illuminated red circle caught my eye—a signal cutting through the darkness. At its centre, a cross of tiny LEDs blinked rhythmically, part medical icon, part abstract light sculpture. Framing it was straightforward: the dark surroundings worked like a natural vignette, pushing the viewer’s gaze towards the centre. I positioned myself to keep the circle symmetrical within the frame, knowing that the composition’s strength would lie in its stark simplicity. Technically, this was a delicate balance. Shooting at night with such a bright light…
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Late Evening Break In Piazza Dante
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Intelligence Contest
A pane of glass separates two worlds. On one side, the hyper-stylised gaze of a model — digital, sculpted, aloof. His stare pierces outward from an ad inside a hair salon, promising precision, control, curated masculinity at €21. Behind the glossy veneer, real people go about their routines, dwarfed by the giant printed face that symbolises a synthetic ideal. On the other side, a cluster of balloons—soft, round, unformed—calls out with its own clumsy presence. Unintended perhaps, but visually evocative, the column of latex orbs resembles a puppet or caricature. In their simplicity, they reflect something the model cannot: humanity, imperfection, absurdity. The composition turns into theatre. A confrontation of…
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The Quest for Belgian Chocolate…
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Street Of New York… Possibly
The image was taken in Italy. But remove the signage, blur the language on the air conditioning units, and this could just as easily be Queens or Brooklyn — any back alley where heat pumps hum above cracked asphalt and fading stucco. That universality was the point. Place becomes anonymous when its elements are global. I composed it as a frame within a frame — the corridor of walls leading the eye to the vanishing point, while the pipes, units, and rust act as punctuation marks. The textures do the talking: peeling paint, patched cement, and the industrial clutter that cities never clean up because no one looks down these…
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Frames for Sale at Via Margutta
I was walking along Via Margutta when the geometry in this shop window stopped me cold. Two empty frames leaned against the glass, one upright, the other tilted sharply as though it had slipped out of formation. Behind them, more frames receded into the dim interior, creating an optical echo — rectangles within rectangles, stretching away into the dark. I shot it in black and white film, embracing the grain and high contrast that the low light demanded. The texture is almost intrusive, but it adds a grit that feels appropriate for a street scene late in the evening. Exposure was tricky: I wanted to preserve the fluorescent highlights inside…
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The Watchman (Street-Photography Shortcuts)
As every thing under the sun, Street-Photography too has its own shortcuts: freaky street-portraits are one of those. It’s easy to have your pictures noticed when your subject is a 60-years old Brit-Punk, an implausible-color dressed man or whatever alike: these subjects do the work on your behalf and it is very hard to obtain such kind of picture AND conveying actual meaning. Personally I like photos that – alone or made meaningful by a title – can tell a story. This way I can try to (pretend to) make “unique” shots, that stand with dignity in front of the zillions of 500px/Instagram/Flickr’s great images that are often perfect but…
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Shaken
The frame is a study in disarray — not in subject matter alone, but in its very execution. The scene, taken on a busy street, is blurred throughout: the figures, the car, the elegant repetition of arches behind them. Whether caused by an unsteady hand, a slow shutter, or a deliberate choice, the result is an image where nothing stands still enough to become the focal point. Two figures anchor the composition: one in the foreground to the left, caught mid-turn, the other to the right, hunched over something in his hands. Their outlines dissolve into the tonal softness, denying the viewer access to facial expression or fine detail. The…
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A Taxi Night Fleet At Oslo’s Central Station
I took this frame at a moment of pure symmetry and friction. The way taxi lines form outside Oslo Central Station at night—almost militaristic in their discipline, yet each vehicle pulsing with its own colour rhythm—felt like an urban ballet set to the low hum of idling engines and the soft scuff of rubber on wet cobblestones. Technically, night shots like this are unforgiving. The cold light from the LEDs clashes sharply with the warmth of the taillights and the overhead sodium vapour glow, which is why I resisted neutralising the colour balance too much. The visual tension between the icy blue reflected on the left and the bleeding red…
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Arriba El Mexico!
I took this photograph from the passenger seat of a cab, during that suspended moment when traffic stalls and the city becomes a collage of reflections and colour. The small felt figure hanging from the mirror caught my attention first—bright, slightly absurd, and placed without irony. The tiny sombrero, the stitched flag, the green felt body: a souvenir turned mascot, living in the blurred space between décor and identity. What interested me was how this small object commanded the frame. The background—city lights, signage, fragments of buildings—exists only as colour fields and soft shapes. The mirror picks up hints of the driver, the interior, and the street behind us, but…
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A Zeppelin in The New York Sky
New York, 2000. I remember looking up from the crowded streets and seeing it — a zeppelin, drifting slowly above the jagged canyon of Midtown’s architecture. In that moment, it felt like something out of a different century had quietly slipped into ours. I didn’t have much time to think; I just framed, focused, and released the shutter. The composition is as much about absence as it is about presence. The airship is small, almost swallowed by the negative space of the sky, yet the buildings act as monumental bookends, forcing the eye toward the centre. The turquoise cast of the glass facade on the left and the warm brick…
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The Lost Garage
A hidden spot, where nobody goes, while everybody passes by.
