Journal
Fragments of a creative life
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…
Veils of Istanbul
Beautiful old corners bathed in sunset light, night-time shopfronts glowing softly in the dark
There is a very interesting concept called hüzün, introduced by Orhan Pamuk in his beautiful book Istanbul: Memories and the City.
It is not easy to translate, but it can be described as a kind of shared melancholy, almost a poetic sadness that seems to permeate the very walls of Istanbul.
I think it takes living there for a long time, and perhaps also the sensitivity of a master like Pamuk, to truly understand it, and probably feel it.
I cannot say I do. But during my visit there was definitely something special: an atmosphere, an energy that I still remember clearly, beautiful old corners bathed in sunset light, night-time shopfronts glowing softly in the dark… i do still miss it just by writing about it
This mood surrounded the city’s beautiful, timeworn architecture, buildings that have witnessed centuries of change and history.
I just love Istanbul.
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.
Storm
From “ The Soul’s Storm “ by Emily Dickinson
It struck me every day
The lightning was as new
As if the cloud that instant slit
And let the fire through.
I thought that storm was brief,
The maddest, quickest by;
But Nature lost the date of this,
And left it in the sky
From “ The Soul’s Storm “ by Emily Dickinson
Snow
Photography often means patience and a willingness to do things most people wouldn’t, simply to witness something, to capture a fleeting moment or a feeling.
Photography often means patience and a willingness to do things most people wouldn’t, simply to be a witness, to capture a fleeting moment or a feeling.
That is one of the aspects of photography I love most. We are surrounded by beautiful moments every day, yet we rarely take the time to stop and truly look, to really see right ?
Sometimes it means waking up at 5 a.m. and heading into a snowstorm just to photograph a pristine white blanket, untouched by human footprints.. or noticing a baker hard at work before dawn, his small workspace the only place illuminated while the city sleeps around him.
This is the good stuff.
A story
I saw you in the subway, low angle view, looking ahead.
You're moving into the future. Your presence defined, your posture composed, steady gaze, there is natural confidence in the way you stand... your expression carries a quiet determination.
I saw you in the subway, low angle view, looking ahead.
You're moving into the future. Your presence defined, your posture composed, steady gaze, there is natural confidence in the way you stand... your expression carries a quiet determination.
Where do you go ?
Paris, May ‘26
Aussie days
My time in Australia was quite something, and I still hold those memories close to my heart. Above all, I cherish the letters I exchanged with my father, whom I would lose not long after returning to Europe.
Australia, 2007
My time in Australia was quite something, and I still hold those memories close to my heart. Above all, I cherish the letters I exchanged with my father, whom I would lose not long after returning to Europe.
It was an incredible period, partly because of work, but even more because of the places I discovered and the friends I made along the way. I lived and worked in both Adelaide and Sydney for the same visual effects company, Rising Sun Pictures.
Since I worked with largely the same team in both locations, I had the opportunity to get to know people well and form lasting bonds.
I have very fond memories of my years in visual effects. When you work on-site with a team, spending such long hours together, fighting "in the trenches" , you become a family. You share hours and hours at work and the good crazy moments outside of it. Australia was no different, and I still remember, the many nights spent at the pub after long days in the studio ( and memory gaps due to quite a significant amount of beer … ) or the week off with my friends who flew in from Italy exploring the Gold Coast in all its beauty.
At the same time, I treasured the quieter moments. On some weekends, I would pack a few things and my camera, and spend the entire day walking, exploring the city and its surroundings. I often got lost, but I enjoyed every minute of it.
In my experience, that's by far the best way to discover a city.
Good times.
Fashion shoot
A reflection on beauty, discipline, performance, and that strange theater that is Fashion.
Looking back at these photographs i took backstage during the Fashion week, what strikes me most is the presence of the models themselves. They move forward with absolute focus, immersed in their path, seemingly untouched by the noise, the crowd, and the countless phones pointed in their direction.
There is something almost mechanical in the precision of their movements: the posture, the rhythm of the walk, the control of expression. Like beautifully engineered machines, perfectly calibrated for a performance.
New York, 2009
A reflection on beauty, discipline, performance, and that strange theater that is Fashion.
Looking back at these photographs i took backstage during the Fashion week, what strikes me most is the presence of the models themselves. They move forward with absolute focus, immersed in their path, seemingly untouched by the noise, the crowd, and the countless phones pointed in their direction.
There is something almost mechanical in the precision of their movements: the posture, the rhythm of the walk, the control of expression. Like beautifully engineered machines, perfectly calibrated for a performance.
Yet I often find myself wondering, though, is what is really happening behind that mask of composure. Which thoughts occupy their minds as they walk? …. which worries, ambitions, memories, private stories that remain hidden behind the expression they have learned to hold so perfectly?
And then, as soon as the show is over, the illusion dissolves. A quick change backstage, a taxi outside and on to the next runway, where the same thing happens again. The same poise, the same carefully constructed moment of perfection.
Around them, a world of images, status, and appearances unfolds. Yet they seem to pass through it untouched, becoming, for a brief moment, something almost unreal, disciplined, and imperturbable.
People in Amsterdam
There is something about Amsterdam that keeps drawing me back. I'm in love with the city: its architecture, its canals, its art, its history, and even its food, if you know where to look.Pages from my sketchbook, improvised places
There is something about Amsterdam that keeps drawing me back. I'm in love with the city: its architecture, its canals, its art, its history, and even its food, if you know where to look.
It's not the ideal place to wander around completely mesmerized by your surroundings, as bicycles seem to fly past like rockets from every direction.
Yet for me, the simple act of getting lost in unfamiliar neighborhoods, discovering new corners, colors, and unexpected details, lies at the very heart of exploring a city.
And as someone endlessly fascinated by people, I find Amsterdam to be a paradise for street photography. Every street, every canal, every passing face seems to offer a story waiting to be captured.