Journal
Fragments of a creative life
A Man - story of music
A few frames from a film set.
as usual my camera was with me, so I tried to capture quieter moments,
actors getting ready, details of the set, fragments of the day,
almost like a colorful storyboard… a story within the story
A few frames from a film set.
as usual my camera was with me, so I tried to capture quieter moments,
actors getting ready, details of the set, fragments of the day,
almost like a colorful storyboard… a story within the story
My Streets
Visual diary of presence, transition, and observation across the city.
Same places, different stories..
Visual diary of presence, transition, and observation across the city.
Same places, different stories..
My streets.
Rain - field notes
05:18
La Défense, Paris
05:18
La Défense, Paris
Low clouds.
Light rain.
Almost no people.
The city sleeps.
Few silhouettes, umbrellas.
Silence.
As concept artists, we spend countless hours trying to invent believable atmospheres.
Sometimes reality does all the work for us.
An unusually early morning, low clouds hiding the tops of the towers,
light rain and an empty financial district transformed La Défense into something that felt strangely cinematic.
La stanza vuota
Some places never forget.
Some places never forget.
The objects remain, marks of your hands.
The silence remains.
That silence still speak of you.
The Empty Room
A moveable feast
“If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you…”
Ernest Hemingway
“If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you…”
Ernest Hemingway
I travelled widely in my younger years, living in different cities, each leaving their own trace. Later, more mature, I arrived in Paris.
It didn’t feel like a beginning. More like a place where everything I had lived before could finally converge.
The city works for me as a container for memory and experience, quietly stirring them, letting them collide and evolve.
From that mixture, something beautiful sometimes emerges.
Fog
For me, fog feeds the imagination. It refuses to reveal the landscape all at once, asking you to trust that what has disappeared from view is still there.
For me, fog feeds the imagination. It refuses to reveal the landscape all at once, asking you to trust that what has disappeared from view is still there.
In a way, if you think about it, fog doesn't add anything to the world, it takes things away.
And, much like the finest paintings, it is through that absence that what truly matters begins to emerge…
True North
Glimpses of Canada's breathtaking wilderness, where black and white transforms the landscape into something timeless.
I still vividly remember a long walk along an old trail with my other half.
Glimpses of Canada's breathtaking wilderness, where black and white transforms the landscape into something timeless.
I still vividly remember a long walk along an old trail with my other half.
Surrounded by the silence of those vast landscapes, we followed abandoned railway tracks as a gentle rain began to fall.
The atmosphere was impossible to recreate, something quietly magical,
revealed only to those willing to slow down, to truly see, and to deeply feel.