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A Young Sailor in Open Sea
I made this photograph on a calm summer morning, the sea flat as polished glass and the light still gentle, skimming across the water like a whisper. The subject—a boy alone in an Optimist dinghy—caught my eye not for his skill or posture, but for the sheer quietness of the moment. He’s not posing. He’s not performing. He’s learning, observing, maybe hesitating. And in that brief hesitation, the photograph took shape. The composition is deliberately simple. The frame is tight enough to remove distractions, allowing the viewer to focus on the relationship between the sailor and his boat. His red lifejacket breaks the soft palette of blue and white, creating…
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Inside the Nazario Sauro
Looking through a watertight bulkhead of the Nazario Sauro, the cold geometry of war endures in steel, cables, dials and cathode-ray screens. The composition is structured by layers: iron framing, claustrophobic corridors, an old radar glowing faintly in the dark. Emptiness fills the frame, and yet it speaks of presence. Of watchfulness. Of command. There are no people here—only ghosts of orders barked, bearings plotted, torpedoes primed. Everything is still, museum-still. But the submarine’s essence hasn’t retired. Its mass, its function, its purpose remain engraved in the very angles and wires now dormant. A chair sits in front of the radar—straight, waiting, unoccupied. It could be yesterday, or seventy years ago.…
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Passage Lost
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Red Lock At Genova’s Dock Arsenal
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Santino’s Photo& Video at Broadway
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Generations – I
In a sunlit alley, life unfolds in layers of time. Two older men stand in conversation by a shuttered shop, their bodies relaxed yet anchored in the familiarity of routine. Their exchange is unhurried, belonging to a pace that has watched decades pass in these same streets. A few steps away, a man pushes a stroller through the narrow path, his back turned, moving forward into the day. In that simple motion, another generation is carried into the world—a reminder that time does not stand still, even in the most timeless corners of a city. The street itself seems to join the dialogue of generations. Tall, weathered buildings lean toward…
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Conversations, Silences, and Street Life
I took this photo on a market day in a small Italian town—one of those moments where nothing happens, and yet everything is happening. The street café was squeezed between stalls and pedestrian flow, and I noticed how time seemed to pass differently at each table. In the foreground, two women, elegantly aged, sat in full conversation, flanked by shopping bags and sun-faded handbags. Behind them, two men—one turned, one leaning—observed, disengaged but present. A quiet choreography of glances, posture, distance. The scene reads like a layered composition. Foreground, midground, background—each one active, but narratively distinct. I framed the shot from an angle that allowed these strata to settle into…
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Call On The Docks
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Friends
There is a certain quiet joy in photographs that capture the ease and warmth of companionship. Friends presents just such a moment — a woman and her dog sharing a gentle exchange on a patch of summer grass. No theatrics, no posed glamour; just a fleeting instance of mutual attention and affection. The composition makes effective use of depth and framing. The low camera angle places the viewer almost at the dog’s eye level, encouraging an empathetic connection with the animal. The human subject is positioned slightly off-centre, balancing the frame against the mass of greenery to the left. This not only prevents the image from feeling static but also…
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Relax At The Rapallo’s Marina
I remember walking past this café terrace at the marina in Rapallo and being drawn to the contrasting energies it contained. In the foreground, a woman in a red dress sits absorbed in her magazine, her body language completely self-contained. Just beyond her, a small group of older men and women are animated in conversation, their faces alive with expression. The scene felt like two parallel worlds inhabiting the same space—private quiet and social exchange—separated only by a few metres of wicker furniture. The colour red became the unifying element. The woman’s dress, the handbag on the sofa beside her, and the clothing of the woman facing away from the…
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Staring At The Infinite (While Waiting For The Fishes)
On a calm afternoon by the Ligurian coast, the sea was neither rough nor still, and time seemed to have slowed to match the rhythm of the waves. The fisherman sat among the rocks, his body angled slightly toward the horizon, hands resting loosely near the rods. There was no urgency in his posture—only patience. The red cap, almost absurd in its brightness, became the visual anchor in an otherwise muted palette of stone, water, and sky.
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The Chess Players’ Summer Nest
There’s a rhythm to afternoons like this. The sun heavy in the air, the shade of the arcade offering just enough relief to keep men rooted to their chairs, eyes fixed on the chequerboard battlefield. The setting is unmistakably local — a small bar spilling its life out onto the pavement, Coca-Cola chairs scarred by years of use, walls patched and peeling. Everything here is part of the game, even the hum of conversation from the tables beyond. What makes the photograph work is its layering. The first plane is the duel: two players hunched, arms folded, eyes locked on the chessboard, their bodies mirroring each other in stubborn concentration.…
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Boat Maintenance At Genova’s Porto Antico
The Porto Antico in Genoa has a way of blending the romantic with the mundane. Tourists tend to focus on the gleaming yachts, the glint of sunlight on the water, the distant hum of maritime history. I found myself drawn to something less glamorous but far more telling—a simple act of maintenance on a sailboat, captured mid-task. From my vantage point, the composition presented itself naturally. The man in the red shirt bends over the stern, his white hair almost glowing under the midday sun. In the foreground, another man, back turned to us, anchors the scene and adds depth. The large ship’s wheel to the right and the tangle…
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An Early Morning Fishing Expedition
I shot this just after sunrise. Light was low but clear, casting long shadows and warming the palette without oversaturating the sand. The three men—two pushing, one walking alongside—form a diagonal that pulls the eye from left to right, through netting, boat, and beach. The scene holds movement without blur. Every element is in transition. I framed from distance using a moderate telephoto to compress the layers—foreground vegetation, safety fencing, beach, and deep field of straw umbrellas. The shallow depth of field separates the action while still referencing the beach’s infrastructure. I let the background stay busy. It adds context, not confusion. Exposure was tricky. Highlights off the boat’s rubber…
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Mooring The Boat
I made this photograph while standing slightly above the scene, looking down as the sailor secured the mooring line. The angle was dictated not by style but by circumstance: the dock rose just enough over the water to offer a natural vantage point. I didn’t ask him to look up or alter his posture. He was intent on the work, and I preferred to remain a quiet observer.
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Waiting For A Customer To Come
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Lost In Rembrance
I made this image during an early evening walk along the Ligurian coast, at a moment when the wind had dropped, the chatter from the restaurants below had softened, and the sea had begun its slow shift to silver. The man in the frame didn’t pose or perform. He stood still, arms folded behind his back, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the horizon—somewhere private. I didn’t interrupt. The strength of this frame lies in its quiet composition. The iron railing draws the eye to the curve of the man’s posture and then out towards the water, which mirrors the diagonal of his gaze. That subtle mirroring, between the subject and the…
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The Penguin’s Feeder
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A Shadow
Shot with the Leica M9, this image is a study in discretion and the poetics of presence. The figure in the foreground is reduced to a silhouette, his back turned to the viewer, his face never revealed. He absorbs the frame. The street scene beyond—colourful, lively, and teeming with out-of-focus activity—contrasts sharply with his opaque stillness. Technically, the decision to expose for the highlights in the background rather than lifting the shadows in the foreground was intentional. I wanted the viewer to feel like an outsider—watching someone who is, himself, watching. The bokeh from the streetlamps adds texture without stealing attention, while the shallow depth of field, aided by the…
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The Godfather
There are portraits that declare themselves in full—broad poses, direct gazes, theatrical light. Then there are those, like The Godfather, that wield influence through omission. This image withholds the subject’s full face, offering only a partial profile and the language of body and gesture. The composition is tightly cropped, forcing the viewer into an intimate but controlled proximity. The jawline is set, the mouth neutral but firm; the hand rests on the chest, fingers curled in a posture that feels both protective and deliberate. The subject’s gaze, cast off-frame, hints at a private sphere of thought or authority that we are not invited to enter. Colour plays an essential role…
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On Air
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Last Check Before The Show
Photographs taken backstage – or side-stage, as in this case – carry a special tension. They are about the moment before the moment, a pause loaded with anticipation. This image captures that space exquisitely. Two women, backs to the camera, lean over a sheet of paper, lit by the same illumination that spills onto the audience beyond. It’s an intimate vantage point, yet the scene is undeniably public. The photographer’s choice of focus is telling. The women are sharp, their details – the thin strap of a black dress, the lace sleeve of a white one – rendered with care, while the audience in the background dissolves into a creamy…
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The Crew’s Rest
Before the music, before the lights, before the roar of the crowd, there is this: scaffolding, cables, flight cases, and the quiet focus of the crew. Two men sit within the skeleton of a stage in progress. One leans back on a low platform, his body turned away, hands resting loosely on his knees. The other, crouched cross-legged on the metal grid, holds a fire extinguisher’s pole with a faint, amused expression, as if catching the photographer in an unguarded moment. Around them, the geometry of the scaffolding frames the scene, a lattice of steel that will soon hold the machinery of spectacle. The city moves on in the background—shops…
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Wet Socks
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