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Who’s Carrying Who?
When I spotted the man hauling this enormous red buoy, I didn’t hesitate. The irony was irresistible—a question of balance, effort, absurdity, and metaphor all in one frame. The netted lines clinging to his shoulders mirrored the posture of a beast of burden, and yet the visual punchline lands clearly: who’s really pulling whom? I shot from above, not just for vantage but to strip away all unnecessary background clutter. By doing so, I let the geometry speak. The diagonal created by the rope lines contrasts with the rigid, blocky paving and soft curve of the buoy. It’s a clean visual split, but not sterile. There’s dirt, grit, marks of…
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A videographer…
… or a human sundial?
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What a odd couple of bipedals…
told himself the seagull.
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The Real Street Photographer: Bold and Fearless
I was walking along the seafront when this little scene unfolded: two women, a dachshund, and a child armed with a compact camera. No hesitation, no awkwardness — he simply stepped into the moment and claimed it, directing his subjects with the quiet authority only the very young can get away with. It was pure, unfiltered street photography, stripped of the adult self-consciousness that so often blunts spontaneity. Technically, the light was harsh, the midday sun cutting strong shadows across the paving and lending the image a slightly brittle feel. The Leica M9, with its CCD sensor, tends to emphasise contrast in such conditions, and here it works in my…
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A promenade
… in a forbidden place.
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A moment of break…
I made this image at a street market in central Italy, just as the vendors were preparing for the day ahead. It was early, cold, and the air smelled of roasted chestnuts and diesel from delivery vans. These two stood silently, each holding a small cup—likely coffee—while surrounded by synthetic softness still wrapped in plastic. Quilts, towels, fleece. The kind of items whose colour is always a little too bright under cloudy skies. Technically, the shot is far from pristine. It’s handheld, slightly out of focus at the edges, and not particularly well exposed. But I’m not sorry. What it lacks in clinical sharpness it gains in truth. This wasn’t…
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No time for lunch at Piazza Fiume …
It was the shadow that pulled me in first—mine, cast sharply onto the boot of the car, creeping into the scene like an unwanted narrator. Midday sun can be harsh, unforgiving, but here it helped slice the moment cleanly into layers: man, car, street, façade. Rome, in its winter light, does this beautifully—sculpts with sun rather than bathing in it. The man was absorbed, cigarette in one hand, eyes squinting into the curbside distance. His posture wasn’t idle. It was tight, waiting. The shoulder bag pulled across his frame like a restraint. The frame itself is compressed—everything close, tight to the lens, from the Mercedes emblem to the man’s jacket…
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The Ghost
There’s an almost cinematic eeriness to this image, as if the subject has just stepped out of one reality and into another. The woman, her red hair catching the muted afternoon light, stands mid-pavement with her back partially turned. Her black gloves, long coat, and still posture evoke a figure from another era — an apparition caught in a modern street. The muted colours of the cars and buildings behind her only serve to make her presence more striking. From a compositional standpoint, the frame is well balanced. The subject occupies the vertical centre-left, her figure breaking the dominant horizontals of the street and architecture. The crossing lines of the…
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Hard work
I took this photograph on a blisteringly hot summer day, the sort of day when the air seems to shimmer and the beach hums with the sounds of leisure — waves, laughter, and the distant hum of radios. But while most people lounged under neat rows of parasols, there was this man, moving with quiet determination, his back to the sea. The scene was visually irresistible: the repeating pattern of red and orange parasols receding into the distance, the bright blue rescue boat and the vivid plastic sunshades forming an almost painterly composition. The man, central in the frame, breaks the symmetry. His white shirt catches the light, contrasting sharply…
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Shooting the Shooter…
…
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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…
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Multitasking
This frame is one of those candid catches where the absurd quietly sits inside the ordinary. Two men, mid-meal, are absorbed in their respective worlds: the one in the centre toggling between a phone call and a glass of wine, the other leaning forward in conversation. The table is cluttered with the civilised chaos of lunch — sparkling water, empty glasses awaiting purpose, a scattering of breadsticks. The composition is built almost like a play: the seated figures as protagonists, the window behind them acting as both set and light source. That window, however, is a double-edged sword. The strong backlight pushed the dynamic range to its limit, forcing me…
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The Businessman…
Restless, waiting for the last flight to come back home.
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Kudos to Ricoh
I lost the external plastic ring covering the electronic contacts of my Ricoh GR Digital III. After an unsuccessful quest around the Net to find a spare part, as last hope (or desperate move) I sent a mail to Ricoh customer support asking where to find a replacement. To my enormous surprise, they answered fast and, since the part is not for sale as such, they offered to send it nevertheless. THIS is customer care. Kudos to you, Ricoh. You gained a customer and a supporter.
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Who Dares Wins
I took this photograph on a grey, wind-bitten afternoon when the sea felt restless and the light had flattened into steel. What caught my attention wasn’t the surf but the contradiction: a warning sign standing firm in the sand, and a man walking past it as if it didn’t exist. He held a turquoise umbrella, not open but swinging at his side — a quiet rebellion against both weather and authority. The tension between rule and gesture made the image. The sign, reading Attenzione – Pericolo. Divieto di attraversamento / Scavalcamento / Transito, is bureaucratic, absolute. Yet the man ignores it, tracing his own path along the forbidden shore. It…
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Impatience
In a hurry, while somebody else is late…
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Generations
Generation after generation, the passion for the photography always lasts.
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Opposites
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Lunch hour geometry
Urban life often reveals itself not through grand gestures but through quiet repetitions. This photograph was taken during an ordinary lunch hour, in front of a small café where the boundary between private routine and public space becomes almost imperceptible. An elderly man sits alone at a table, absorbed in the slow ritual of reading while his coffee cools beside him. His posture suggests familiarity rather than urgency. This is not a hurried pause between commitments but a measured suspension of time, shaped by habit and personal rhythm. Around him, empty chairs and unused tables form a subtle choreography of absence, reinforcing the sense that this moment belongs more to…
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A perfect match
You don’t pose the street. You chase it — and sometimes, if your reflexes are fast enough, you catch it. In this image, it happened in a split second. A man sat reading the newspaper at a café table. For the briefest of moments, he held it in such a way that his own profile aligned perfectly with the image printed on the page — a fashion ad, a male model in a similar pose, eyes half in shadow, fingers near the mouth. Two men, one real, one imagined, locked in a mirrored gesture of casual confidence. Then it was gone. That’s the essence of street photography: the unrepeatable alignment…
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An outdoor theatre?
… no, just two friends debating vigorously.
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The Odd Couple
This shot came together almost accidentally. I had been tracking the pigeons on the sand, their erratic movements making them elusive subjects, when the man entered the frame and sat down. His stillness was in complete contrast to their nervous pacing — two worlds side by side, sharing the same strip of beach without truly interacting. From a compositional point of view, the layering works: foreground sand, mid-ground human subject, and the blurred stretch of sea behind him. The diagonals created by the man’s posture and the birds’ orientation give the image a subtle sense of direction, even though nothing dramatic is happening. It’s quiet, almost muted in mood. Technically,…
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A Missed Pricetag?
This frame was taken in the heart of a southern Italian city where IKEA briefly turned the central square into a showroom of absurd proportions. A towering yellow Klippan sofa and a monolithic orange bookcase stood awkwardly monumental, surrounded by the iconography of price tags and corporate identity. At first glance, the scene could pass as whimsical urban installation. But the more I looked through the viewfinder, the more it began to speak a different language — one of quiet irony. The man in uniform, arms crossed, positioned centre-right, is what holds this image together. His stillness is incongruent with the playful intent of the installation. He isn’t enjoying the…
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Tough Enough
Winter light in Rome has a particular sharpness to it—crisp, but never cruel. I took this frame on one of those days when the air was cool enough to see your breath, yet the sun still carried the weight of the Mediterranean. The man in the foreground walked past with the easy stride of someone immune to the season. Sleeveless, tanned, a newspaper in hand—he looked more like August than January. The scene unfolded quickly. The scooter-lined curb, the idling bus, and the kiosk stacked high with papers gave the photograph its Roman DNA. The cluttered street corner made for a textured backdrop, but compositionally I placed him just off-centre,…
