I come from a background in Visual Communication Design and I currently work as a Junior Art Director, where creativity meets structure and intuition meets method. I often describe myself as creative with a planner’s soul: I enjoy shaping abstract ideas into visual narratives, giving them direction and coherence. This approach deeply influences the way I see and practice photography.

Photography has always been one of the ways I communicate with the world. Before becoming a tool, it was a language: a space where I could observe, pause, and give shape to what I felt but could not articulate with words. I am deeply drawn to communication in all its forms, and perhaps this is why I photograph: to catch nuances, silences, emotional distances, and invisible connections that images can hold more naturally than language. In my work, aesthetics are never an end in themselves, but part of a broader intention: to tell stories, suggest feelings, and leave room for interpretation.

My photographic practice moves mainly between two different yet complementary approaches. One is quiet, outward-looking, almost invisible. It is rooted in observation, in blending into spaces and cultures, allowing my gaze to remain hidden while searching for details, gestures, and atmospheres that reveal the subtle complexity of people and places. It is a way of photographing that listens more than it speaks, aiming to capture shades of humanity that often go unnoticed. The other approach is loud, direct, and at times deliberately unsettling. Here, I turn the camera toward myself, using my face and body as narrative tools. Through self-portraiture, I immerse myself in concepts and emotional states I would not know how to explain otherwise, allowing the image to become both a confrontation and a release.

These two ways of photographing, one silent and external, the other visceral and introspective, coexist in constant dialogue and shape my visual language. Photography continues to be, for me, a space of exploration, vulnerability, and storytelling.