Instinct and Light: Capturing Italy’s Landscapes in the Perfect Moment

I’ve never been the kind of photographer who waits for hours with a tripod, tracking the sun and calculating the light. My style is instinctive. I walk, I look, I notice — and when something feels right, I take the photograph.

In Italy, this approach is essential. Light here changes in an instant. A lake that looks calm and flat one moment can shimmer with gold the next as the clouds part. A narrow street in Bergamo can shift from shadowy and quiet to glowing with warmth in the space of a few minutes. If I stopped to plan too carefully, I might miss the moment entirely.

For me, photography isn’t about controlling the scene. It’s about being open to it. I react to what’s in front of me — the colours, the textures, the way the light touches stone or water. The instinct comes from knowing when that scene will translate into something timeless on camera.

Some of my favourite images were taken in seconds, almost by surprise. A reflection across Lake Como, a shaft of light falling through the arches of a Venetian bridge, a quiet alley where the shadows stretched just right. None of it was planned. It was simply about being present, trusting my eye, and acting in the moment.

That’s what I love most about photographing Italy. It keeps me alert and alive to the world around me. Each picture is not just a record of a place but of a fleeting moment that will never repeat itself in quite the same way. And when I look back at my photographs, I don’t just see the scene — I remember the feeling of recognising it, instinctively, as something worth capturing.