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The Road To Justice
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Lost Cellos
There’s something unsettling about musical instruments left alone. Cellos, in particular, carry a visual weight even when silent — the curve of the body, the arch of the bridge, the scroll’s delicate twist. In this scene, set against the pale facade of an Italian street, they lie scattered, leaning awkwardly against bright red plastic chairs, as though abandoned mid-performance. I was drawn to the tension between elegance and neglect. The geometry of the composition came naturally — the red chairs punctuating the frame, the arc of the white wall detail acting almost like a silent proscenium arch. The absence of people intensifies the stillness, making the instruments feel orphaned. From…
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A Fisherman
There is an honesty to this image that immediately draws me in — a straightforward, unembellished portrait of labour and craft. The fisherman, head bent in concentration, works his net with the steady rhythm of someone who has done this countless times before. The choice to focus on the act of repair, rather than the act of fishing, shifts the narrative from the sea’s drama to the quiet maintenance that sustains a livelihood. Compositionally, the photograph benefits from its use of leading lines. The fishing net, stretched out toward the left of the frame, guides the viewer’s gaze straight to the fisherman’s hands — the heart of the story. The…
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Red Curtains
It caught me as I was leaving a small trattoria, the kind where wine glasses reflect years of conversation and meals stretch long into the evening. The curtain—the protagonist here—isn’t just a physical separator. It’s a thin veil between what’s public and what should remain private. I let the fabric dominate the composition. Its translucent quality distorts the background just enough to suggest, not show. The folds create a rhythm, a vertical cadence against the more chaotic, lived-in blur of the interior. The exposure was tricky. Balancing the warmth of incandescent lighting with the saturation of the red was key—push too far, and the tones bleed; underexpose, and the shadows…
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A Broken Gearwheel
I came across this fragment of concrete by chance — two heavy, jagged halves lying on a bed of smooth stones, their shapes echoing the teeth of a gearwheel. It looked industrial, almost mechanical, yet entirely static and inert. There was no motion here, only the suggestion of it, frozen in decay. When I composed the frame, I aimed to make the gear the clear focal point while still allowing the surrounding textures to play their part. The roughness of the stone bed contrasts nicely with the flat, worn surface of the concrete pieces. The diagonal orientation of the gear halves gives the image a touch of dynamism that the…
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A Green Patch
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A Standup Paddleboarder
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Snorkeling
I made this photograph with a Pentax K-5 II and the humble SMC Pentax 18-55, a kit lens that, while often underestimated, has served me well in situations where flexibility is more important than technical perfection. Framing was a game of patience here. The snorkeller moved slowly into my line of sight, framed naturally by the foreground rocks, which form a rough vignette and create a sense of peeking into a private scene. This kind of natural framing can be both a gift and a curse: while it gives depth and directs the eye, it also forces me to deal with tricky metering. In this case, I exposed for the…
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Mussels Underwater…
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Stylemaster
A woman captured mid-stride in a crowded urban setting. Her expression is firm and composed, giving her a commanding presence within the frame. She wears a vivid combination of colours: a bright yellow top beneath a dark jacket, complemented by a multicoloured scarf that adds texture and movement. Her accessories — large earrings, a metallic necklace, and a patterned bag — contribute to a distinctive and confident style. She stands out sharply from the softly blurred background, where uniformed officers and passers-by create a sense of bustle and public activity. The selective focus isolates her as the visual anchor, allowing her posture, attire, and expression to carry the narrative. The…
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When We Thought We Would Have Changed The World
I took this photograph at a street market, where these shirts hung in plain view, each one shouting a message of defiance. Slogans, graphics, and colours combined into a tapestry of protest, reminders of a time when politics and identity were worn quite literally on the chest. The immediacy of the words—ribelli sempre, non mi avrete mai come volete voi—speaks of resistance, of collective identity built in opposition to authority. I framed the image tightly to remove context and distractions. The viewer is left with nothing but the shirts, their messages, and the pins holding them up. This close composition turns an everyday street scene into a typographic study. The…
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Sea Anemones Shot With A Cheap Kit
A modest waterproof case. A curious eye. A tide pool teeming with colour and texture. This photograph captures more than just two sea anemones nestled in their rocky enclave. It captures the enduring truth that photography is not always about the gear — but about the gaze. No high-end housing, no bespoke optics — just patience, instinct, and the will to submerge the lens where it rarely dares to go. The shallow water refracts the light into a painterly softness. Reflections and shadows dance on the submerged stones. The vivid, almost surreal red of the anemones emerges against a muted background, revealing an alien world within reach of a…
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Waiting For The Bus On Las Ramblas
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Tattoos in Barcelona
The sunlight was sharp, bouncing off stone and glass, cutting strong highlights across shoulders and pavement. I didn’t ask them to slow down or acknowledge me; I simply kept pace for a few steps, paying attention to posture, rhythm, and the way bodies occupy shared space.
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A Jazz-Manouche Guitar Player
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Waiting To Board At Santa Margherita Ligure
Crowds have their own choreography. This moment, taken on the waterfront of Santa Margherita Ligure, is less about any single subject and more about the small, unspoken narratives that weave together in a public space. Nobody is looking at the same thing, yet they are all connected by the same purpose — waiting for the boat. From a compositional standpoint, I deliberately let the frame fill with people, favouring density over isolation. The image works because of its layers: the foreground with its sharply focused details, the mid-ground of partially obscured figures, and the soft backdrop of the harbour and town. Each layer adds depth without distracting from the central…
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Pentax k-5 And The Aquapack 458
Like the other two previous pictures, this one too has been taken by a Pentax K-5 housed into an Aquapack 458. This underwater housing, at least for APS-C dSLR, is a cheaper alternative to the more expensive, though bigger and better engineered, Ewa Marine. It fairly easy accommodates the camera and the DA* 16-50, but using this lens that has a 77mm filter thread forces the use a focal lenght of at least than 40-45 mm, otherwise the border of the external cap fills-in the picture. A DA* 16-50 at 16mm (I repeat: with a 77mm filter thread) is the bigger lens that can be accommodated into the housing, but…
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Under The Rocks
I made this photo from a pier, camera pointed straight down. No filter, no polariser — just sun, salt, and a moment of stillness on the surface. Below, the usual tangle of seaweed and barnacles on stone, but what caught me wasn’t the marine life — it was the way the water rearranged the image as I watched. Distortion became a kind of painterly gesture. The composition is almost accidental. I didn’t frame with precision — I let the edges fall where they would. The stone fills the middle, but it’s the border between water and air, between visibility and motion, that gives the photo its tension. You’re not just…
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On The Rocks
The sea’s edge is a place where chaos and order coexist — a shifting dialogue between water, light, and whatever lies beneath. In On the Rocks, my attention was drawn to the intricate textures created as the tide caresses clusters of dark, glistening molluscs anchored firmly against the current. At first glance, the subject might seem unremarkable, but in moments like these, photography teaches us to see beyond the obvious. Here, the composition works by bringing the viewer down to the water’s level. The low angle compresses perspective, creating an almost abstract layering of sharp foreground detail and softly diffused background. The bokeh of golden reflections in the upper part…
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Bless or Curse?
I took this photograph standing behind the statue, looking out over the marina. The choice of viewpoint was deliberate—front-facing statues are expected, almost ceremonial; from behind, they become more ambiguous. Without the expression to guide us, the outstretched arms could be offering a blessing to the yachts in the bay, or perhaps condemning their excess. The composition is simple but layered. The statue dominates the left third of the frame, creating a strong vertical anchor, while the open space of the sea and sky fills the rest. The boats, scattered across the water, offer points of visual interest without competing for attention. The horizon is placed high enough to balance…
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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
