Hope after the Storm

The sea hadn’t quite calmed when I made this frame—the wind still cut the crests sharp, and the noise of the waves clashing against the pilings of the trabocco was thick, physical. I waited for a break in the light, not hoping for much, and then the rainbow broke into view—just briefly—and gave the scene a tension it was missing. Not the kitsch kind of rainbow, but the kind that appears in defiance of ruin.

The trabocco—an ancient fishing machine precariously perched on stilts—has always struck me as the embodiment of resilience. I framed it slightly to the left to leave space for the arc, letting the rainbow anchor the right and drag the eye seaward. On the Panasonic TZ-100, I didn’t have the luxury of a large sensor or wide aperture, but I worked within the constraints: ISO 125 to avoid noise, 1/400s to freeze the motion of the sea, f/5.6 for acceptable depth.

Technically, the TZ-100’s colour rendering leans slightly cool, so I warmed the shadows ever so slightly in post—nothing dramatic, just enough to restore what I saw, not embellish it.

What matters to me here isn’t the beauty of the scene. It’s the suggestion that permanence isn’t necessary for strength. A structure like this shouldn’t stand. And yet, it does.