photonote

Some places never really let you go, even when you wave goodbye at the airport as if you’re closing a chapter for good. The favelas of Rio de Janeiro, for me, are one of those places. I lived there long enough to understand that there’s no “final version” of what they are. They’re worlds that shift shape at every corner, depending on the hour, the light, the mood of the street. And when I think about them now, years after leaving Brazil, I realize how much my photos have changed… maybe even more than the favelas themselves.

Back when I lived in Rio, visiting the communities had become almost natural. The big ones like Rocinha, Complexo do Alemão, Vidigal… each with its own personality, rhythm, and soundtrack. I remember the tangled electric wires hanging overhead, the smell of churrasco mixed with exhaust fumes, the music bouncing off chipped walls. In the middle of that wild, beautiful chaos, I walked around with my camera, convinced I had to capture “everything.” I shot instinctively, without really asking myself what I was actually looking for.

When I look at those photos today, I can see a kind of haste I no longer feel. The curiosity was there, of course, but I didn’t yet understand the importance of the position I was photographing from. And that makes all the difference. Shooting in a favela isn’t like shooting in just any neighborhood: every image carries weight. Not just because of the subject, but because of the responsibility. Telling the story of a community that already carries so many stereotypes means being careful not to reinforce them out of laziness or superficiality.

The paradox is that, visually, favelas are irresistible. The light behaves in a strange way, squeezed between narrow alleys and improvised rooftops. The colors are never neutral: rust, bright blues, concrete, and the marks of time mix in a way no designer could recreate. And yet, today, visually “strong” photos wouldn’t be enough for me anymore. I’d look for images that tell a story without taking something away, that participate rather than extract.

If I went back now, I’d do it with a different kind of attention. I wouldn’t chase the dramatic shot—I’d look for the stories. I’d spend more time talking, listening. I’d look for the everyday moments: a woman rolling her hair at her doorstep, a child kicking a deflated ball, a young guy fixing a motorcycle in a dim alley. Small scenes I probably would have ignored back then, too focused on the idea of “documenting.”

With time, you realize that photography isn’t about having the right answer at the right moment. It’s about being present, and being respectful. Especially in places the world often insists on looking at from above. And maybe that’s what would draw me back today: the desire to photograph not just what I see, but what I’ve learned.

Early this morning, just after sunrise, the Passetto had that kind of light that doesn’t lie: sharp, high-contrast sky, and a breeze that seemed to carve out every detail. I snapped three photos of the Memorial war, the elevator, and the long staircase. Shot on an iPhone 17 Pro Max in DNG and then polished up in Luminar Mobile to bring out the texture hidden in that fierce light.

The Passetto is one of Ancona’s true icons — sure, you could call it “Instagrammable,” but it’s really a place where the city reveals itself. And not everyone knows this, but Ancona is one of the very few cities in the world where, at certain times of the year, the sun both rises and sets over the sea. This morning it kept me company on my way to work, and these shots are the result.

Saturday, August 9th marks the final day of the most anticipated event of the year here in Senigallia: the Summer Jamboree.

But what exactly is the Summer Jamboree? It’s an international music festival celebrating the culture of the 1940s and 1950s. The very first edition took place back in 2000, and over the years it has grown into a massive gathering that now draws more than 400,000 visitors.

For photographers, it’s nothing short of a candy land. Many attendees show up dressed in authentic ‘40s and ‘50s attire, turning the streets into a living catwalk of vintage characters eager to be photographed. Strolling through the historic center of Senigallia with a camera around your neck during the festival is pure joy.

There’s no shyness here, no need to sneak around to “steal” a shot, and no elaborate tricks to stay unnoticed. Everything happens in the open — everyone photographs freely, and everyone wants to be photographed! It’s the perfect training ground for those who are shy behind the lens.

Naturally, portrait photography takes center stage. The subjects you meet are more than happy to pose — all you have to do is raise your camera, point your lens in their direction, and they’ll meet you with a smile (or maybe a swing-era pose).

It often happens when we take photographs: we focus on certain elements in front of us, but not the whole scene. When I took this shot, my attention was entirely on the diagonal lines created by the play of light and shadow in this narrow street in my city’s historic center.

Only later, while editing the image, did I notice the strolling couple: the man holding his partner’s hand with his left hand… and scrolling through his smartphone with his right. Meanwhile, she was carrying two shopping bags.

My first thought? What a gentleman! If I ever tried that with my wife, I’m pretty sure she’d send me straight to the moon.

Silhouette

A word that originated in France in the 1700s, later adopted in photography to describe a striking visual technique: capturing subjects in backlight, rendering them as dark shapes against a brighter background.

To create a proper silhouette, the exposure must be set in a way that the subject itself is underexposed—stripped of internal detail—leaving only the outline visible.

These images carry a unique power. The lack of detail invites the viewer to imagine what lies within those black forms. It's all about shape, contour, and suggestion. Silhouettes can evoke memories, emotions, or simply a sense of mystery.

Another day, another photo – as always! This personal blog is my daily motivation to shoot and share. Life gets busy, but there's always a moment worth capturing — and that’s something I constantly repeat during my photography classes and workshops: practice, practice, and more practice.

Today’s shot plays with reflections — one of my favorite spontaneous subjects. Storefront and restaurant windows in our cities often hold little visual surprises, especially when multiple elements come together. In this case, the reflection includes the cozy interior of a restaurant, some beautiful old buildings from Via della Loggia in Ancona, and a man riding the legendary Piaggio Vespa.

Captured with an iPhone — because the best camera is the one you have with you! 📱✨

Castelluccio di Norcia: Beauty, Fragility, and the Price of Exposure

Tucked away in the heart of the Umbrian-Marche Apennines lies Castelluccio di Norcia, a small village that's part of the municipality of Norcia (Perugia), in Umbria, Italy. Perched atop a hill overlooking the Piani di Castelluccio, one of the largest plateaus in Central Italy, this tiny village is a place suspended in time. The current structure dates back to the 13th century, though some research suggests its origins may be even older.

In 2016, a devastating earthquake struck the region with a magnitude of 6.5, causing significant damage to the village and forever altering its already delicate balance with nature and time.

What makes Castelluccio truly magical, however, is an extraordinary natural event that takes place every year: the flowering of the lentil fields. Between late June and mid-July, the plateau explodes in a surreal mosaic of colors—shades of red, purple, yellow, and white stretching as far as the eye can see. It's a breathtaking spectacle that draws thousands of visitors, especially on summer weekends.

I’ve visited this place many times in the past, captivated by the colorful landscapes and the quiet majesty of the mountains. But in recent years, I’ve chosen to stay away. The surge in tourism has become overwhelming—so much so that it risks stripping away the authenticity and serenity that once defined the area.

The photos in this post were taken over a decade ago, back when the experience felt more intimate, more connected to the place itself.

This leads me to reflect on mass tourism and its impact on fragile environments. With globalization and the ease of travel, more and more of the world’s hidden gems are becoming overcrowded. The experience becomes less about being in the moment and more about ticking a box or getting the perfect photo.

Is it fair to the places we visit? Can natural beauty coexist with global visibility? There’s no easy answer. But one thing is clear: without thoughtful regulation and awareness, we risk irreversibly damaging the very places we seek to admire.

Let’s be honest: sunsets are probably the second most photographed subject on the planet—right after cats. We've seen so many of them across social media that it's hard not to feel a little... nauseated. I usually scroll right past them. Instagram? Swipe. Facebook? Next. They all start to blur into one endless stream of reds and oranges, like nature’s autoplay feature.

And yet.

Every time the sky starts to burn with color—when those deep reds and soft oranges light up the horizon—I stop. I reach for my phone. I take the photo.

Because sometimes, you just have to.

This was one of those moments. Piazza del Papa, Ancona, Italy. In the background, under that glowing sky, you can see the silhouette of San Domenico Church, built in the late 1700s.

A Glimpse Through Time: San Ciriaco Cathedral

This photo was taken inside the Duomo of San Ciriaco, the cathedral of the city where I live. This sacred place has an incredibly ancient history—its origins date back more than 2,000 years. It was built over the ruins of a temple dedicated to Aphrodite, which stood here as early as the 2nd century B.C.

The cathedral is a remarkable example of Romanesque architecture, enriched with Byzantine and Gothic elements. It stands as one of the most important and fascinating representations of this stylistic fusion in Italy.

Walking through its aisles always stirs deep emotions in me, especially as someone deeply moved by history and art. I often find myself looking upward, searching for interesting angles that combine arches, lines, circles, and the various architectural elements that compose such a harmonious and powerful visual story. Each detail speaks of the mastery and vision of the artists and engineers of the time.

I return to this part of the city often not only for the cathedral itself but also for the breathtaking view it offers. From here, you can admire the port and the northern coastline of the city. It’s especially magical at sunset.

Over the years, I’ve owned many cameras, from an analog Nikon FM from the ’80s to various digital models like Fuji, Canon, Sony, and Ricoh. I often shoot with my smartphone as well — any tool works!

This blog was born out of a desire to share my passion through visual notes captured in everyday life. The world around us is full of visual stimuli, some more interesting than others, and I love to capture whatever draws my eye, reflecting on its meaning.

I also want this space to be a personal exercise to stimulate my creativity, observe more carefully, and freeze moments of all kinds. The practice of photography is essential: those who carry this passion within them see the world through a photographic lens, even without always holding a camera.

Welcome to my journey through images and observation!