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Cold Freezing Tour Through Oslo’s Fjord
I took this photograph aboard a ferry cutting through the Oslo fjord in winter. The cold was penetrating, the kind that seeps into bones despite layers of clothing. The passengers’ body language tells the story more effectively than words: one figure wrapped in a blanket, hands folded in stillness; the other with a camera resting idly on his lap, shoulders hunched, jeans stiffened by the chill. Compositionally, I aimed for a low angle, using the perspective of the floor and the rug leading diagonally into the frame. This draws the eye directly toward the two figures without needing to show their full faces. The benches on either side narrow the…
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Italy, Street-Photography and The Law – A Real Case
Last July, members of the Polizia municipale of Rome seized the camera of a British-Brazilian street-photographer, Simon Griffee, while he was documenting the way they dealt with an immigrant. As Simon’s lawyer I’ve filed an appeal and a week ago the Court of Rome revoked the seizure. The battle is not over, yet, but hopefully Simon’s camera will be back on his hands pretty soon. As soon as possible I will release a thorough analysis of the case matched with what the law says, in theory.
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Free Ride
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Behind a Shop Window in Oslo
This was one of those scenes that unfolded on its own terms. No decisive moment, no split-second drama—just a man behind glass, cleaning or adjusting or both, surrounded by faceless mannequins and the awkward geometry of retail preparation. I raised the Nikon 35 TI and pressed the shutter before overthinking it. Shot through the shop window, the glass worked both against me and with me. It introduced layers—literal and symbolic. Reflections were minimal but present, just enough to remind us we’re on the outside looking in. The man is inside a constructed world, arranging it, tidying its surfaces for consumption. The mannequins—blank-eyed children—stand frozen, already staged, while he works between…
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The Wild Bunch
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The Path To Freedom
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Running On The (Oslo’s) Docks
The moment lasted a fraction of a second. I was walking along the Oslo harbour, camera hanging loosely, eyes half on the ships and half on the geometry of the paving stones when he entered the frame — the runner. Perfect posture, right leg extended mid-stride, left arm balancing out the rhythm, and most crucially, isolated against the background clutter of docked ships and cranes. This image isn’t about the athleticism. It’s about pace, solitude, and counterpoint. The city rests behind him, still and orderly, while he pushes forward, cutting through the quiet with motion and intention. He’s small against the marine industrial backdrop, but all attention lands on him.…
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Ceci N’Est Pas Une Pipe
The man stands on the pavement, absorbed in the small object between his fingers. From a distance, it could be mistaken for a pipe, but it is not — hence the title. The illusion, momentary and context-dependent, mirrors Magritte’s provocation: our assumptions often run ahead of the facts. I composed this with a clear separation of subject and background. The warm, textured brown of his jacket isolates him against the cooler tones of concrete and foliage, pulling the eye immediately toward him. The alignment along the right-hand third of the frame keeps the sidewalk stretching away into the background, giving a sense of space and urban depth. Technically, the exposure…
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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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Portrait of The Alfa Romeo Guru
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Dreaming Of Giulietta (sprint)
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An Old Lady in Great Shape
There’s something about old cars that asks you to listen before you look. You don’t photograph them—you make their acquaintance. This shot was taken inside an Alfa Romeo Giulia. She’s a machine from another time, but she doesn’t wear her age like a burden. The patina on the steering wheel, the soft wear on the dashboard controls, the dusty glow on the gauges—they don’t speak of decay, but of use. Of stories lived in full throttle and long idles. I didn’t stage this frame. I simply opened the door and saw her waiting there in quiet elegance. The light slipped through the glass just enough to kiss the rim of…
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Not A Photography Anymore
I approached this shot with the intention of exploring the point at which photography begins to lose its documentary role and drifts into the territory of constructed image-making. The Leica M9, with its CCD sensor, is unforgiving in its rendering of highlights, and here I chose to exploit that to push the tones far beyond their natural state. The result is an image that wears its artificiality openly. The composition is rigidly symmetrical: three vases, evenly spaced, under a line of metallic coffee pots and creamers. The symmetry is disrupted only by the interplay of colours — magenta, amber, and white — and the bold shadows they cast. These shadows…
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An Off Duty Anchor
I photographed this anchor in bright sunlight, a massive piece of ironwork chained and set as a monument. What caught my attention, however, was not just the object itself but the casual intrusion of a beer bottle resting at its base. The contrast between permanence and ephemerality, between weight and disposability, was too striking to ignore. Compositionally, the frame is cropped tightly to remove distractions and place the focus squarely on the anchor’s texture and the bottle’s fragility. The dark chain arcs across the image, cutting a diagonal line that divides the weighty form. Against it, the amber glass sits small and almost ridiculous, yet it steals attention precisely because…
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Efesto’s New Production Line
Just behind the barbecue master, the heat rose sharply and the smoke thickened into a shifting wall. The man stood at the centre of it, absorbed in the intensity of roasting slices of lambs, his back straight, shoulders tight, arms moving with controlled force. There was no theatrical pose—only concentration. From this angle, the scene feels more like a workshop than a stage.
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A Haunted(?) House
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Urban Desolation
This photograph is part of a study I’ve been developing on marginal architecture—spaces neglected by urban development yet still clinging to presence. The building isn’t ruined in a picturesque way. It’s just exhausted. Scarred concrete, flaking plaster, and rusted grates stand as accidental testimonies of permanence beyond usefulness. I composed the frame to draw the viewer’s eye along the length of the structure, ending with the blurred outlines of new buildings in the background. The juxtaposition isn’t subtle—it wasn’t meant to be. These walls hold layers of past usage, from the makeshift repairs to the graffiti tags now fading like old memories. Technically, the photo rides a fine line between…
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Street Crossing
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Ramping Up
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Windows
The photograph isolates a stark interior: two narrow barred windows flanking a central wall, and above them, a single rectangular window letting in pale light. Geometry dominates—verticals and horizontals align, while the bars break symmetry with their irregular grid. The result is a study in confinement and release, the eye inevitably drawn upward toward the light source. Composition is strict, almost architectural. The side windows anchor the lower frame, their darkness reinforcing the weight of the walls. The brighter upper window, positioned centrally, becomes both focal point and escape. Depth is minimal; the flatness of the surfaces intensifies the sensation of enclosure. Technically, the black and white treatment enhances austerity.…
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Food For Thought
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Via Collina, Empty, From Above
The perspective is vertical, as if leaning out and looking straight down. Cars line both sides of the narrow street, parked in strict succession, their roofs forming a patchwork of tones. The pavement and façades edge the scene, flattening into geometry under the camera’s angle. At the centre, however, the street itself is bare—an unexpected strip of emptiness in a crowded frame. Composition relies on symmetry and repetition. The rhythm of vehicles, rectangles of windows, and parallel lines of pavement create a structured grid. The lamppost, suspended on its wire, interrupts this order with a curve, offering a counterpoint to the rectilinear logic. Two pedestrians near the corner introduce scale,…
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An Old School Workstation
It’s not just a desk. It’s a time capsule. A stack of worn books. Pages thick with annotation and use. The chipped edge of a hardcover bent from years of handling. And just out of focus, the heavy presence of a typewriter—silent now, but once the loudest voice in the room. This photo is titled An Old School Workstation, and it says more than it shows. There’s no screen here, no cursor blinking for attention. Just tools. Weighty, tactile, deliberate. This was how knowledge was built—layer by layer, keystroke by keystroke, turned page after turned page. The contrast to today is hard to ignore. Now we scroll, we skim, we tap…
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A Rusted Window
