Chronicles of Expensive Walls from a Certified Brick Observer

Born in Foggia, a land of scorching sun, aggressive focaccias, and “creative” parking, I carry with me that specific pinch of Pugliesità that helps me view the world through the eyes of someone who constantly expects their tripod to be stolen. My vision is architectural, meaning I see pillars everywhere, but also deeply human, in the sense that I sometimes forget to breathe if the vertical lines aren’t perfectly 90 degrees. Fundamentally, I find myself photographing whatever is left behind after everyone else has left out of sheer boredom.

My career path was essentially a creative way to overcomplicate my life: with a degree in Civil Engineering and a programme at SDA Bocconi, I now know exactly how much the bricks I’m photographing cost, which adds a certain existential weight to every shot. Then, because structural calculations were far too relaxing, I ran away to Spéos and Magnum Photos in Paris to learn how to give my images an intellectual tone; now I spend my days trying to force a dialogue between the discipline of concrete and poetic intuition, even though the concrete usually doesn’t talk back.

To achieve this, I’ve spent my life savings on a specific arsenal of instruments. I use a Leica M11, a camera that no sane person would ever use for interiors, but I do it because I love a challenge (and a bit of masochism); I turn its limitations into virtues, so if a photo is crooked, I just call it “the shape of silence.”

As for my availability, please do not call me for baptisms or bar mitzvahs (weddings only as a second shooter, standing at the back). I’m available only upon request for extremely selected projects, which means that without an email (French, English or Italian, cursive font optional) and a budget that allows me to buy yet another useless Leica, my “vision” will likely remain switched off and I’ll stay home staring at pillars in peace and quiet.