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A young Iron Maiden fan
He might never have seen them, but who cares? Metal is immortal…
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A stupid quarrell
This photo raised strong criticism in the mainstream media. A soldier deployed in an operational theater (war, in other words) wears a balaclava with the image of his all-day companion: the death. Apart the fact that the image is a skull and not the Death (whose iconography is fairly more articulated and complex) the question is: why should this photo matters? All the combatants, of all times, of all places in the world know best the value of inducing fear into the enemies’ minds by way of “icons” (armors, masks) and sounds (shouts, drums.) And, in parallel, every soldier must find his own way to handle the unbearable fear of…
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A Contemporary-Art Installation?
I framed this shot as I found it — no rearranging, no cleanup, no staging. A raw space, forgotten in function but rich in visual contradiction. On one hand, it reads as abandonment: scattered rubbish, a deflated tyre, a dirty sink hanging by a thread, and a cupboard that’s outlived its utility. On the other, it holds a disconcerting balance of form and void, of placed objects that unintentionally echo the tropes of installation art. You could easily walk into a gallery and find something not unlike this, recontextualised and labelled with a price tag. The camera’s low perspective exaggerates the volume of the room, pulling the viewer into its…
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A true friend
They enjoy their time together, as true friends ever should… No leash. No command. Just a gesture—and absolute trust. In this intimate frame, the lens captures a silent language spoken only between companions of a certain kind. The man’s hand rises gently, fingers curled, holding nothing yet holding everything that matters: attention, affection, history. The dog, massive and solemn, gazes upward with reverence—not out of obedience, but because it wants to. This is not a portrait of a pet and its owner. It is a document of friendship forged over countless days walked together, of shared silences and mutual understanding. The bond, invisible to the eye yet utterly present, transcends words. Loyalty…
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AI or not AI?
A jam in via Alessandria
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Don’t Forget!
It’s the moment between words that makes this picture. You can almost hear the shop owner’s voice, half command, half reminder, as the young man in the doorway glances back. The raised hand, the turned head, the slight lean forward — everything about his body language says, “You’ve got this, but don’t mess it up.” The frame itself is tight, almost conspiratorial. We’re standing just behind another figure — smart jacket, cigarette in hand — as if we’ve stumbled into a private exchange. That foreground figure acts as an anchor and a barrier at the same time: we’re part of the scene, yet removed from it, observing through a filter…
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Abruzzo’s made Coke??
Didn’t know that Coca-cola was a speciality of Abruzzo…
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Dreaming of a Lancia Delta Martini…
… while driving a Nissan.
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The Power of Music
The story is all in the child’s eyes
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Supporter or Photographer?
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Foto-Grafo featured on Yanidel.net
The (temporarily now) Argentina-based street-photographer Yanick Delaforge kindly published a couple of shots from Foto-Grafo, Quis Custodies and The Last Waltz, in his “Sho(r)t Stories” series.
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Hell Behind — Tiny Holes Reveal the Flames
This image came to life in a place most people would overlook—a weathered metal surface, pitted and worn, pierced by three small holes. From behind, the glow of fire seeps through, each point of red surrounded by the darkness of oxidised steel. It is a minimal scene, but one that brims with quiet menace. The composition is as simple as it gets: three points of light, vertically aligned, slightly imperfect in their spacing. That imperfection matters—it stops the image from feeling sterile and gives it the organic quality of something made by hand, or by time and decay, rather than design. The surrounding textures—the rust speckles, the gradient of heat…
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Seeking Directions
is a complex task, not only on the streets.
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A Kiss In The Shade
I made this photograph late in the afternoon, when the sun was low enough to turn ordinary walls into canvases. Two people leaned in — unaware or unconcerned — and their shadows became the real subject. The kiss itself wasn’t visible, only its echo in light. That absence, the translation of intimacy into silhouette, was what drew me to press the shutter.
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The Bored Bassman
Jazz stages have a way of amplifying not just the music, but the moods of those who inhabit them. This frame, taken mid-performance, says less about the notes being played and more about the space between them. The singer is in her moment, eyes closed, wrapped in the phrasing of a lyric. The bassist, by contrast, rests his chin on his hand — a gesture that could be concentration, fatigue, or simply waiting for his cue. From a compositional point of view, it’s an image split in tone and focus. The spotlighting was harsh, and while it gave the singer’s red dress and skin a luminous presence, it also pushed…
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An inconvenient way to spend time.
Waking up at dawn, layering up like a World Cup slalom contender, waiting your turn at the ski-lift, gliding up to 1,800 metres… and then, instead of carving lines on powder, seeking out the perfect sunny corner to unfold a deckchair and read a magazine. De gustibus, indeed. I took this photograph partly amused, partly curious. The two figures, bundled in ski gear, are frozen in a still life of leisure that feels completely at odds with their surroundings. It’s an unspoken reminder that the mountains aren’t only for the adrenaline-seekers — they’re also for those who see them as a backdrop for a slower kind of pleasure. Technically, the…
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Overexposed?
The scene was candid — two figures, winter jackets zipped to the chin, one holding a small camera at arm’s length, the other patiently posing. The patchwork of snow and rocky ground under a hard midday sun gave me a chance to play with tonal contrast, though it came with its own technical hazards. Snow in bright light loves to trick meters, and the risk here was losing detail in both the highlights and the shadowed areas of the coats. I exposed with the snow in mind, letting the darker parts fall slightly under, trusting that I could lift them later without ruining texture. The clouds, stretched across the frame…
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Rest in peace
after half a day of ski.
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The perfect ski outfit
… which one is best?
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Chitchat under the rain
every moment is the right one, to enjoy a friendly conversation.
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The sentinel…
… hawkeye!
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Bored
… why go to dinner together, just to enjoy a boring night?
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The Last Puff, Before the Kitchen Opens
He leans into the corrugated shutter like it’s the only stable thing in his world. Dressed in pristine whites, but already marked by the day’s fatigue, this cook steals a few quiet moments with his cigarette and his phone. The street is empty, the restaurants still closed, and everything about the frame holds a soft tension—the pause before the fire and oil, the clang of metal, and the heat of service. What struck me first was the geometry. The vertical roll-up doors, the receding line of storefronts, the bricks underfoot—all form a corridor that isolates him visually and narratively. I composed slightly off-centre to echo the disconnection between his world…
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The Alchoolist’s garbage
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Lonely cart
… of a potato manic
