To my regret, I must admit that I was not knowingly aware of Fabrizio Paterlini before. I am certain I have heard pieces by him in the past, but he was not yet part of my musical database—a pity, indeed. I have since learned that he plays minimalist piano music, which was also new to me. I realize I have some gaps in my musical education, so I plan to make up for it by starting to listen to all of his albums.
The song Far away from home really got to me.
Give it a listen.
Note: This is the third part of the VII Masterclass 2022/2023 article series, originally published in December 2024 in the 256th issue (PDF) of the Périodique du Photo-Club Esch. The photos in this post differ slightly from those published in the magazine.
As with my previous two trips to Arles, this one began early in the morning—with Enya, our dog, sprawled across the stairs, determined to block my way downstairs. This time, however, I opted for a different mode of travel: driving by car. My parents decided to accompany me for the final session, a thoughtful and heartwarming gesture on their part.
The journey, however, came with a twist. Union strikes had disrupted fuel production across France, particularly in the north and south, creating concerns about shortages. At one point, my parents were so unsettled by the uncertainty that they considered not making the trip at all. To reassure them, I preemptively filled two jerry cans with fuel, ensuring we would have enough to make it home if necessary. With preparations in place and my parents reassured, we set off in the dead of night, driving into the sunrise along the Autoroute du Soleil, heading south.
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Note: This is the second part of the VII Masterclass 2022/2023 article series, originally published in September 2024 in the 255th issue (PDF) of the Périodique du Photo-Club Esch.
Deep down, I probably knew that the masterclass and the journeys to Arles would profoundly impact my personal and professional life. During the first session, I already felt a shift within me, and as I made my way to Arles, that feeling grew stronger. There were many significant moments during these sessions that were pivotal to my thinking and development process. However, two of the most significant moments were the private exchange with Stefano De Luigi during my homeward journey from Arles and the personal editing session with Nicolò Filippo Rosso after his keynote.
The conversation with Stefano De Luigi at the central station of Arles was deeply enlightening. His insights and observations resonated with me on a personal level, prompting a series of new thoughts and perspectives. This dialogue was not just about photography but also about life, purpose, and the broader context in which we work as documentary photographers, photojournalists, and visual storytellers. It was a moment of clarity that helped me see the path ahead more clearly.
Similarly, the private editing session with Nicolò Filippo Rosso was a turning point. His keynote was already inspiring, but the one-on-one session allowed for a more in-depth exploration of my work. Nicolò’s constructive feedback and guidance opened up new avenues for my creative process. He shared techniques and philosophies that challenged my existing approach and encouraged me to experiment and push boundaries.
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Note: This is the first part of the VII Masterclass 2022/2023 article series, originally published in March 2024 in the 253rd issue (PDF) of the Périodique du Photo-Club Esch.
The events of September 11th, 2001, stand as perhaps the most vivid and detailed recollection I possess of a complex international context. At the age of 11, I distinctly recall my mother retrieving me from summer school activities and, as we disembarked from the car in front of our house, solemnly proclaiming, “There will be war.” An hour later, I found myself in my grandparents’ living room, where I witnessed video footage of the unfolding tragedy for the first time. Throughout the night, my grandfather and I remained glued to the television. At the same time, my grandmother, at some point, chose to retire, recognising the profound gravity of the situation.
The terrorist attacks etched indelible emotions and images into my mind and soul, setting the stage for a succession of similarly painful news stories. However, the pivotal moment occurred when my mother presented me with a German magazine featuring articles and accompanying photos of the events. I was captivated by the images I held in my hands. I was fascinated by the courage and composure required to maintain sanity in such dire circumstances and focus on capturing those compelling moments as photographs.
The Raw Society is a unique community of people from every corner of the world, united by a passion for photography. Within this cohort of photographers lies an immense wealth of knowledge on nearly any topic in life. Some members generously share parts of their expertise, experiences, field notes, thoughts, reflections, and photographs on blogs—many of which are hosted on Substack.
For me, this community served as an excellent incentive to finally start blogging myself. Substack seemed like a suitable platform, though I had my reservations. I created an account, subscribed to various members of our community and others, and lurked for a while. I appreciated the blogging aspect but was less enthusiastic about the Twitter-like feed they introduced at some point. When The Guardian published the article Revealed: How Substack makes money from hosting Nazi newsletters, my reservations were confirmed, and I decided to stick with my initial plan: a self-hosted WordPress blog; like in the rare ould times.
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