Late Night Arrival at Bertinoro’s Castle

There’s something about fog that eats light and sound in equal measure. At Bertinoro that night, the mist rolled in thick and silent, swallowing the medieval walls until they were no more than looming shapes. The only figure breaking the gloom was this woman, striding toward the castle gate with a purpose that suggested she hoped — perhaps against reason — that someone inside might still be awake.

I shot this in black and white not as an afterthought, but because the scene demanded it. Colour would have been irrelevant here — the atmosphere was all about tonal gradation, shadow, and grain. Yes, grain. This isn’t the crisp, low-noise look of a camera coddled at base ISO. I had to push sensitivity hard, letting the texture work with the scene, turning technical limitation into aesthetic choice.

Compositionally, I went wide, letting the vast, empty wall dominate the frame, pushing the subject into the bottom right quadrant. This gave the picture its scale and its tension — she’s dwarfed by centuries of stone and an expanse of shadow. The diagonal of her movement, cutting through the heavy stillness, adds a subtle dynamic, and her light coat pops just enough to draw the eye without breaking the mood.

Exposure was a balancing act: enough to hold detail in her coat without losing the deep blacks in the shadows, all while working with the diffused, low-contrast light the fog offered. The result is a frame that feels more like a film still than a conventional night shot — imperfect in a deliberate way, because perfection would have diluted the sense of mystery.

For me, this image isn’t just about someone arriving late; it’s about what the fog hides, what the darkness keeps, and the quiet anticipation of not knowing if the door will open.