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Into The Cube
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An Old Wi(n)dow
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Pavement
Look down. That’s where the history usually hides. This photo was taken not for what it shows, but for what it holds: time, pressure, order, and the slow, quiet work of weather. Pebbles set into concrete. Bricks pressed into place. Moss finding the lines and growing into them without permission. There’s nothing dramatic here—no subject in the conventional sense. Just texture and pattern and subtle, lived-in contrast. Whites, greens, browns, a bit of erosion, and a soft blue cast that comes from early evening or maybe reflected sky. A patch of street that thousands have stepped over without ever seeing. Sometimes photography is about finding the unnoticed—framing a space so…
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Faces in the Façade: A Ghostly Smile in Stone
The camera tilts upward, catching the weathered skin of a building where plaster peels like old parchment. Two circles and an arch, carved decades ago, sit quietly above the passageway. Yet in this photograph, the mind cannot help but play: the decoration forms a round-eyed, wide-mouthed face, its features soft and slightly comic. The resemblance is uncanny—here is the echo of the Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters, peering down with an oblivious grin. The cracked and flaking surface becomes its aging skin, the faded stucco a reminder that even ghosts of pop culture can find new haunts in architecture. Light and shadow turn structural detail into character. The deep arch below reads…
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Three’s Company
Public benches are theatres of the unscripted. I caught this trio suspended in a casual triangle—neither fully connected nor entirely apart. The geometry between them is tense, not hostile, but uncertain. They don’t pose; they orbit each other, and the moment belongs to that hesitation. The photo hinges on spatial rhythm. The wide format stretches the composition just enough to isolate each figure, but the concrete shadows and the circular bench lock them into an unspoken narrative. The light slices the scene diagonally, a crisp late afternoon beam that exaggerates contrast and textures—the pavement, the blue pillar, even the worn telephone on the left. That phone, by the way, plays…
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Blow Up
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Fun
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Reluctant
It is a simple gesture, easily missed. But in that tension between movement and resistance lies a deeper reading of emotion and instinct. The dog, powerful and proud, lowers its head and anchors its weight as if reluctant to proceed—not from fear, but perhaps from nostalgia, uncertainty, or simply the inertia of old age. There is a moment of friction in this otherwise ordinary urban vignette: the human strides forward, while the dog—the loyal shadow, the constant companion—glances back, hesitates, drags its paws against the direction of motion. The leash, loosely held, is not a tool of command but a symbolic tether. It binds not through force, but through trust.…
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Histoire d’O
Photography has a curious relationship with meaning. Sometimes it offers us a direct line to an obvious narrative; other times, it teases us with ambiguity, compelling the mind to reach for significance where perhaps none exists. This image—an aged, weathered architectural oval, framed in peeling plaster—belongs firmly in the latter category. Its title, Histoire d’O, borrows knowingly from the controversial novel of the same name, inviting the viewer to read into its form, its texture, and its emptiness. Technically, the photograph demonstrates a strong command of tonal control. The black-and-white treatment emphasises the interplay between texture and shadow, revealing the rough grain of the plaster, the fine cracks tracing across…
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Columns
In Brussels, this curved colonnade sits like an architectural punctuation mark in the middle of a park — a statement without a sentence. I positioned the frame to face it directly, giving symmetry the upper hand. The central alignment was intentional: it allows the gentle arc of the structure to pull the eye from one end to the other without distraction. The light was flat, filtered by a heavy overcast, which meant no harsh contrasts or deep shadows. This helped preserve the fine details in the stone — the weathering, the subtle variations in tone — while keeping the surrounding foliage rich but not overpowering. The grey of the columns…
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Orange Scarf
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Uchi-Mata
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Ottica Boncompagni
Walking through the streets of Rome with a camera in hand, I often find that shopfronts—particularly those that stubbornly resist the homogenisation of modern branding—tell more about a city’s cultural fabric than any monument. Ottica Boncompagni, captured here in this image, is a perfect example. The sign is visually loud, unapologetically retro, and absolutely Roman. The heavy, rounded typography in ochre and crimson recalls a distinctly 1970s aesthetic—an era of optimism and visual experimentation that still clings to the façades of certain Roman quartieri. And yet, this is not kitsch. It’s lived-in design, aged not by affectation but by time and endurance. From a technical perspective, the composition sits squarely…
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A Fence
What drew me to make this photograph was not the fence itself, but the way it interacted with the geometry behind it. The wire grid overlays the diagonal of the concrete stair and handrail, creating a tension between rigid containment and directional movement. The eye wants to follow the slope upward, yet is repeatedly interrupted by the vertical and horizontal bars in the foreground. In terms of composition, the alignment was deliberate. I positioned the frame so that the grid sat almost perfectly square, avoiding converging lines that would soften its structural authority. The diagonal cuts through the otherwise orthogonal arrangement, introducing a dynamic that stops the image from becoming…
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A Grocery Store in Rome
Some photographs emerge not from the pursuit of the exceptional, but from the quiet insistence of the everyday. This frame, captured in Rome, is one of them. I didn’t wait for decisive moments or orchestrate elements. I simply stood in front of this unassuming mini market, with its fluorescent signage blinking “COLD DRINKS” and “APERTO,” and let the banality speak. The storefront is wedged into a stone facade, a brutal contrast softened by the cluttered joy of cheap pleasures: laminated posters of ice creams, fizzy drinks stacked like bricks, and a faded theatre poster wedged between glossy wrappers. You can almost smell the dusty coolness inside — a refuge from…
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Silver Pottery
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A Blue Vespa
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Billiard On The Field
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Ready For Lunch
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Tiles
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The Heart Of Giulietta
There is something about an Alfa Romeo engine bay that resists anonymity. Even in a close crop, stripped of context, you know you are looking at more than mechanical function—you are seeing Italian engineering as an act of design. This photograph of a Giulietta’s twin-cam engine captures that balance of precision and personality. The aluminium cam cover, its surface softly patinated by years of heat and breath, bears the proud Olio cap in crisp relief. The lines are clean but never sterile, the casting both purposeful and beautiful. Four orange ignition leads arc neatly toward the distributor, their gentle curves as intentional as the arcs of a sculptor’s chisel. The…
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A Fishnet – 2
Fishing boats, when they’re not at sea, have a stillness to them that’s almost deceptive. You look at this image and all you see at first are the nets — layered, coiled, heavy with their own weight. But you know that once the boat moves out of the harbour, these same nets will vanish into the water, turning into something entirely different: a tool in motion, an extension of the crew’s livelihood. The shot is a straight-on composition, framing the netting in the foreground so it fills most of the image. It creates a natural barrier for the viewer’s eye, almost demanding you examine the knots, the frayed edges, the…
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Handling the Fishnet
I shot this on 35mm film, standing just close enough to feel the humidity roll off the hulls. The frame came together fast—nets lifted mid-air, a weather-worn fisherman pausing in the background, boats docked like tired beasts. The timing wasn’t choreographed. It was observational. The kind of moment that offers itself, briefly, before it folds back into routine. Technically, I trusted the light meter and let the film carry the tonality. Overcast conditions gave me a flat, diffuse wash—ideal for capturing texture without losing shadow detail. The greens of the net, mottled with rust stains and bleached ropes, became the visual anchor. It’s a dirty, complicated green that only salt…
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The Seagull And The Sentinel
In front of the solemn geometry of a royal palace in Oslo, the eye is drawn not to the grand columns or orderly facade, but to the understated absurdity playing out on the forecourt. To the far right, a sentinel paces with ceremonial rigour — upright, focused, unyielding. His role is one of symbol and service: a visible reminder of authority, history, and order. But his dedication unfolds before an almost entirely empty square. Almost. Because to the left, alone and unconcerned, a seagull meanders across the open expanse. It neither salutes nor flees. It simply exists — indifferent to the weight of flags, uniforms, or palatial power. This…
