SOTTOPELLE

There are years when the camera has no actual project. It stays close anyway. In the bag, in the hand, against the chest. It becomes an organ without a task. Not recording, not composing, just pulsing alongside you. You raise it before you know why. The image arrives after the gesture, not before it.

Sottopelle collects a year of that. 2025 was a time where nothing broke open. The work was elsewhere. Mostly screens, data, deadlines. But sometimes the hand demanded the grip. A root, a wall, a red coat, a fern. Not chosen. Caught. What holds these images together is not a subject but a condition: the photographer’s refusal to stop looking when the mind has no use for it.