"The only man I know who behaves sensibly is my tailor; he takes my measurements anew each time he sees me. The rest go on with their old measurements and expect me to fit them." George Bernard Shaw, Man and Superman
Read MoreThe jacket
portrait
Playing tennis in Central Park
That was "Il Mister's" dream… They called him "il Mister" because you could see him walking around in misty Venice, with Aloha, his faithful dog and a camera (sometimes, also, a gigantic tripod)… His friend, Andreas F., -another enigmatic and legendary figure of Venice- gave him that name, but nobody remembers why. Except me, of course. The truth is that nobody knew what "il Mister" was doing in Venice either. He and his friends, a group of men and women that met regularly in a mysterious place they called "Azerbaijan", were shrouded by mystery. Were they spies? Were they photographers? Were they secret guardians of the galactic balance? My mission was to find out… And I did. But you will not. Not from me, anyway... In my job, secrecy and discretion are essential for survival. All I can say is that I followed him all the way to Central Park. I went to see him play tennis. I didn't though. All he did was smoke. Well, smoking in Central Park is not all that bad, I thought…
Read MoreWho framed Andreas F.?
Andreas F. knew how to frame people… He was really good at it… Andreas F. was a legend. Venice was his playground and a digital Nikon his weapon of choice. Sometimes someone would hire him to frame someone with an analogic camera, especially if they wanted the framing to be slow and painful… He was presice and methodical, he never left loose ends. If you wanted the job to be done, you'd hire Andreas F. Women adored him, men were intimidated by him. Of course, Andreas F. was not cheap... He wouldn't get out of bed for less than half a million dollars... Andreas F. worth every penny of it. The framing was clean, smooth, silent. All that was left when he was finished was the smoke of his cigarette… Marlboro, they said… But who really knew what brand of cigarettes Andreas F. smoked? It was the 31st of May… It was my birthday… I had no money, no job, no hope for the future. Venice was hot, humid and dangerously seductive… An old connection of mine I happened to meet for a spritz the day before, had told me a rich Venetian woman was willing to give 2 million euros to anyone who would frame Andreas F. I could ask for the reasons, but I didn't have to… I said I would do it. I needed the money, I had nothing to loose and I really wanted to know what brand of cigarettes Andreas F. smoked… Even if it was the last thing I saw… It wasn't difficult to track him… I wasn't new to the job… I won't bother you with the details… The framing worked. All I had to do was to hand over the card and collect the money. But life wouldn't just be so sweet for me… As I looked away from the vaporetto that would take me to Punta Sabbioni, I saw him framing me. I didn't feel a thing. He really was smooth. He really was merciful. I throw the card in the Canal Grande. I sat down. As I started to feel the effects of the framing, the san Marco square was already a blur. It was pointless to hold on to reality. As Venice was fading away, I saw the headline in tomorrow's papers: "Who framed Andreas F.?"… My eyes were closed. All I could see was cigarette smoke. Good bye Venice…
Read MoreFarewell, my lovely
“I needed a drink, I needed a lot of life insurance, I needed a vacation, I needed a home in the country. What I had was a coat, a hat and a gun. I put them on and went out of the room.” This is my all time favourite line from Raymond Chandler's "Farewell, My Lovely". It was stuck with me while I was looking Helen's shots. Who knows how subconscious works? So, quoting him seemed like a good idea…
Read MoreThose moments in between
In between jobs, in between relationships, in between tasks, in between decisions, in between flights, in between training, in between meals, in between drinks, in between thoughts… All this time-space in between… Moments discarded, neglected, uncared-for, untended, forgotten. Yet always there, like a bonding material.
Read MorePhotographic fact of the day: I stalked Julian
I admit it… It's not the first time… You see, Julian is an actor and, in my experience, arranged photo shoots with actors can very easily go sideways…
Read MoreSharing the light with Silver
Dramatic, funny, creative, enigmatic… simply fantastic. Meet Silver, my Saturday subject, the girl that gave me some of my favourite street portraits so far…
Read MoreBetter shoot first and analyse later...
These shots were taken during a conversation I had with Matina, an actress, about the fact that, while some people are a delight to photograph (like her, obviously), there are others that I can't take a single decent shot of them…
Read MoreEspresso mood makes you look good
Maybe it's funny, but I don't like espresso. Maybe I'm lucky, but most of the people I know, do.
Read MoreI left my hat in Haiti
in portrait
He wasn't Fred Astaire… Just a sailor from Cuba who worked as a bartender but dreamed to be a model. I said "Maybe I can help, do you want me to take some photos of you?" He said "Sure, I wish I had my hat though…". "Where is your hat?", I asked. He looked away with dreamy eyes and said: "I left my hat in Haiti/In some forgotten flat in Haiti/I couldn't tell you how I got there/I only know it was so hot there…" . I said "You better go get your hat" and left his bar dancing to the sweet Caribbean rhythm…
Read MoreBeauty talks, talking walks...
in portrait
"She was the music heard faintly on the edge of sound", to quote Raymond Chandler...
It's the eyes...
in portrait
If there is a “place” in the human face or body that the essence of a person cannot be fully disguised, it’s the eyes. In a world where nothing is real this is the only “detector” of truth. The eye truth recognition system... The secret is that the eyes speak straight to the heart, not to the mind. They generate an immediate, very often, bodily reaction.
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I met Sunday, she's a girl
... She didn't know she was the kind of girl you meet in a film noir's hot summer day passing through a gas station or a general store, the kind of girl you ask for directions, or if she has seen the guy you're looking for… She didn't know she was the sunny kind of girl that fate had put in that particular spot as a last effort to make you abandon the search and go back… Because if you are a film noir hero, when you find what you're looking for, you wish you didn't… Her name was Sunday and that proved that there are no coincidences...
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