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Just In Case
Should you have some doubt, by reading the banner you can’t be mistaken. Clarity can be a virtue, even when it delivers its message with the blunt weight of inevitability. Here, a simple blue sign announces the location of the mortuary—not just once, but three times, in three languages. French, Latin, English. No ambiguity, no chance of misunderstanding. Just in case. The composition frames the sign against the muted greys of the surrounding architecture, a deliberate choice to strip away distractions. The words stand out, rendered in stark, functional typography, their neutrality belying the emotional weight of the place they indicate. Photography thrives on layers of meaning, and here the…
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Ni État Ni Patron
Brussels. A quiet wall, a passing car, and a message that’s louder than both. The slogan is old—older than the paint used to scrawl it—Ni État Ni Patron. No state, no boss. A phrase that echoes from factories, barricades, pamphlets. And now, here it is again, on a half-covered stretch of rendered concrete. It wasn’t written to decorate. It was written to remain. The graffiti stands out not just for what it says, but for where it says it: in the middle of a freshly patched rectangle, painted over what was clearly another message before it. The wall becomes a palimpsest—layers of resistance, erasure, and return. Below it, a car…
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Poetry Still Survives
Blessed be the city, where somebody can earn his day, by selling poetry.
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Caged?
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The El Prat’s Lounge
Airport lounges often exist in a strange, liminal space — neither entirely connected to the bustle of the terminal nor completely detached from it. This photograph captures that in-between feeling with an almost still-life precision. The beige armchairs, glass coffee table, and neatly placed newspaper (“La Vanguardia”) suggest a space curated for calm, yet one can sense the transient nature of those who pass through. The composition is deliberate and symmetrical, the sofa centred with the vase of artificial flowers acting as the visual anchor. The choice to place the glass table in the foreground introduces depth and framing, its reflections adding subtle complexity without pulling attention from the central…
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Small Talk in Las Ramblas
I took this photo in Barcelona, where conversation isn’t background noise but part of the architecture. Las Ramblas is never quiet, never empty—always a current of movement, commerce, and human theatre. Yet in this frame, the flow is briefly suspended by a gesture: one man leaning down to greet another, while a third man stands as witness, folded newspaper in hand, arms set in a subtle brace of familiarity. The scene unfolds naturally, without prompting. I wasn’t aiming for perfection but presence—being there, camera in hand, when a moment coalesced. Compositionally, it’s informal yet balanced. The figures form a loose triangle, anchoring the shot while the rest of the world…
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Much Too Powerful a Knock…
The subject here is as straightforward as it gets: a wall, framed by rusted metal edges, and a hole clean enough to suggest sudden, concentrated force. The image works because it refuses embellishment — no dramatic angles, no post-production theatrics, just a direct record of an event’s aftermath. Compositionally, the vertical framing contains the scene like a display case, while the rust on either side breaks the monotony of the pale plaster. The crack lines radiating from the impact point add an organic texture, guiding the viewer’s eye back to the centre. The absence of any human figure allows the imagination to dwell on cause and consequence. From a technical…
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Cupido’s Fall
There was a time when Cupido ruled the world. Not the cherubic archer of myth, but the man on the torn poster — a champion accordionist, his name blazing in dotted capitals, promising music and spectacle. Now, the paper curls at the edges, bleached and scarred by weather, the glory half-erased by time and graffiti. The god of love meets the fate of every earthly name: reduced to a fading print on a damp wall, fighting a losing battle against rust, mould, and the next layer of urban scribble. The photograph works because it understands the poetry of decay. The black-and-white treatment is an apt choice — stripping the scene…
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Siamese Boats On the Seine River
Two barges, TEMPO and VESTA, lashed together as if bound by some unspoken pact, making their way up the Seine. Seen from above, their pairing creates a symmetry that is almost architectural. The way their bows slice the water in unison feels more like choreography than navigation. The shot was taken from a bridge, directly aligned with their approach, which allowed me to keep both vessels centred and parallel in the frame. That alignment is crucial — a slight offset would have made the composition feel off-balance. Here, the geometry holds everything together: two hulls, two decks, two names, and a doubling of anchor motifs. The light was soft but…
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Longtime Abandoned
Some photographs speak in whispers, and this image of a weathered wooden door is one of them. Its panels are mottled with time—stains, scratches, and the slow creep of age have worked their way into every fibre. A crude plank, bolted across two round metal handles, serves as a lock, its blunt practicality making any notion of elegance irrelevant. This is not a door meant to welcome; it is a barrier meant to last. The surface reads like a palimpsest. Graffiti, faint and uneven, is etched into the upper left panel—“MAS” followed by lines and symbols that could be initials, a date, or nothing at all. The ambiguity is part…
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Who Needs A Wedding Photographer Anymore?
I took this picture at a friend’s wedding. Though there was an “official” photographer, almost all of the attendees did their own “service”. They spent the majority of their time (and of their mobiles’ batteries) by obstructing the professionals on duty to get mostly irrelevant and low quality pictures. This is the main reason I chose not do weddings and – in general – ceremonies.
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The Teleferic de Montjiuc
I framed this high, tight, and in monochrome. The tower holds its geometry clean against a washed-out sky, bisected by the tension of support cables that anchor the structure both physically and compositionally. The decision to exclude ground and context wasn’t aesthetic—it was structural. I wanted the image to stand on line, angle, and steel alone. Shot with a mid-telephoto to flatten depth slightly and reduce parallax across the girders. The light was diffuse but not flat. A break in the clouds gave enough gradient to define planes without creating shadow noise. The exposure leaned conservative: highlights retained in the clouds, midtones preserved in the riveted panels and pulleys. No…
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A Great Marketing Stunt
Until June 1998 the Italian telephone system didn’t require to dial-in a prefix to place a local call, but this banner still lasts as nothing have changed. A great way to tell people that “we were there before…”
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The Skeptical Listener
While a politician addresses his audience, a skeptical listener think of how many times she’ve been there before…
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Pure Joy. An Essay in Street-Photography
The smile of a grandson worths a whole life. When I made “Pure Joy”, I recognised instantly that it was the kind of moment street photographers chase for years — brief, unrehearsed, and unrepeatable. No posing, no staging. Just a collision of light, gesture, and emotion that existed for a fraction of a second before dissolving into the street’s rhythm again.
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Whatever You Stand For, Vote!
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Empty Spaces
This is a fraction of what a single human brain can contain. But today there is no risk of going through the first couple of books.
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Under an Old Roof
A scrap of newspaper clings to the surface of a wooden beam, yellowed by time, softened by dust. The print advertises used cars, once a promise of mobility and new beginnings, now only a faded record of another era. Above, the roof beams reveal gaps, through which light seeps, fractured and uncertain, illuminating what remains. The photograph works in layers: the brittle newsprint, the rough wood, the dim background of tiles and sky. Each element bears marks of age, but together they tell a quiet story of storage, neglect, and survival. It is less about the subject itself than about what it represents—the persistence of the ordinary beneath the erosion…
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Time Runs Fast
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The Hamlet’s Dilemma
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Somewhere in Japan
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Portrait of Keyboard Player
He had just finished a piece when I took the shot. Head tilted, hand still resting on the keys, that slight smirk not forced but earned. This wasn’t posed—it was a breath between moments, a performer halfway out of character and halfway into self-awareness. The ambient energy of the room still swirled around him—soft voices, chairs moving, blurred motion in the background—but he held still. I composed tight to emphasise the contrast between stillness and motion. The background drags slightly, figures abstracted by a slower shutter speed, but the face and fingers are crisp—anchoring the shot where it needs to be. The lighting was mixed: tungsten overhead, cooler light from…
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A Fountain
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Yes, We…Can
I took this photo because it stopped me mid-step. A banal object — a crushed Coca-Cola can — pierced on a historic stone spike, suspended in defiance or perhaps pure indifference. The tension between the industrial red cylinder and the worn, centuries-old limestone was too stark to ignore. The composition leaned heavily on perspective and focus. I shot wide open, letting the background melt into soft abstraction, just enough to hint at an ancient setting without overpowering the main subject. I tilted the frame slightly to echo the absurd balance of the can, breaking away from textbook horizontality to embrace the odd equilibrium of the scene. Exposure was critical. I…
