The Sorcerer’s Shop

Walking past the narrow streets that night, I was struck by the oddly theatrical composition this small shop presented. “La Bottega delle Streghe” — The Sorcerer’s Shop — proclaimed the sign above, and there in the doorway hung a single jacket, swaying faintly in the evening air. Through the open door, the frame split into two narratives: the interior, softly lit and cluttered with fabric and objects; and beyond it, the alleyway, dimly illuminated, with a car just visible in the background.

The framing here is deliberate — the doorway acts as both literal and visual threshold. The viewer is pulled in, suspended between the world outside and whatever spells or bargains might lie within. I kept the vertical lines true to preserve the sense of a portal, but allowed the irregular textures of stone and graffiti to break the formality.

Technically, the shot pushes the limits of handheld low-light work. Taken on film, the grain sits heavily in the shadows, a reminder of both the limits and the character of the medium. The exposure holds detail in the highlights of the shop interior without losing the night’s depth outside. There’s a slight softness toward the edges, likely a mix of lens character and the light levels, but it serves the mood — this isn’t an image of clinical precision but one of atmosphere.

What lingers for me is the balance between the prosaic and the surreal. It’s just a jacket in a doorway, yet in that light, in that place, it becomes part of a story the viewer is left to finish.