From the fire of Etna to the light of the Dolomites: the story of a mountain photographer.
From Etna to the Dolomites: two mountains, one passion
My story with photography began in Catania, in the 1990s, and it began precisely on a mountain: Etna.
As a child, I looked at the slides my uncle took during his excursions to Mount Etna. Those images left a lasting impression on me that, over time, would become much more than a simple passion.
For those born in Catania, Etna isn't just a mountain. It's part of their identity, a constant presence, a living mountain.
Perhaps this is precisely why, even today, when I think back to my journey as a mountain photographer, I feel that it all began there.
Photography, after all, has always been present. In my group of friends, I was the one who always had a camera with me. First the first camera phones and compact cameras, then increasingly more professional tools.
It was never just a passion to pursue in my spare time. From the very beginning, I had the idea that photography could become my profession.
The Apprenticeship: Learning Photography on the Job
In 2005, the first real professional opportunity arrived, in a photography studio in Catania.
It was a very different reality from today: people worked six days a week, sometimes with split shifts, for a very low salary.
But that was a fundamental school.
I learned how to work with prints, how to develop and edit images, how to interact with clients and, above all, how to understand photography in all its facets.
It also happened that I attended weddings.
It was a real apprenticeship, filled with lots of practice and many hours of work. But right there I realized I wanted to continue on that path.
Photography as a story of the mountain
In the meantime I continued to photograph Etna.
When the eruptions came, it was possible to take the scooter even at night to go and photograph the mountain.
Those experiences taught me something that I still consider fundamental today: photography is not just technique, but also the way you choose to narrate what is in front of you.
In 2012, I went to London with the specific idea of working in photography. I stayed for a few months and then came back.
I don't consider it a failure. On the contrary, that experience made me even more aware of the direction I wanted to take.
I later worked in tourist villages as a photographer. It was another important training ground: learning to be quick, adapt to situations, work with people, and understand that a photograph can also become a shared experience.
Arrival in San Vigilio and the encounter with skiing
The turning point came with Fotoplus, which took me to San Vigilio di Marebbe to photograph the ski school courses.
At first, it was seasonal winter work. There was one small problem, though: I didn't know how to ski.
I found myself photographing and filming a sport I didn't really know yet. I learned firsthand, and over the years, I've worked with even top-level athletes.
Among them were Manfred and Manuela Mölgg, but above all I had the opportunity to experience the world of competitive skiing up close, from the European Cup competitions to the World Cup on the Erta slope.
I photographed moments of training and competition, standing just meters away from athletes like Federica Brignone and Mikaela Shiffrin. What interested me, however, wasn't just capturing the technical gesture. It was telling the story behind it.
Skiing told through people
One of the projects I cherish most is the documentary I made for the 80th anniversary of the local San Vigilio ski club. I followed the young athletes for an entire year, from summer training to winter competitions.
Through photography I tried to convey not only the results, but also the discipline, the effort, the relationship with the coaches, the support of the families, and the sense of community that revolves around skiing.
It was a way to understand this area even better. Because behind a mountain, a track, or a race, there are always people.
From seasonal work to the choice to stay
Until 2019 my work was mostly seasonal.
During the winter, I lived and worked in San Vigilio, while during the rest of the year I looked for other opportunities. At a certain point, however, I felt the need for a change.
I decided to stay in San Vigilio all year and build my independent business here. 2020 was supposed to be the beginning of this new phase.
Then came Covid. And, as often happens, an unexpected opportunity arose from a difficult situation.
Telling a story about a territory through work
During that time, I had the opportunity to work on visual communications for Agricolart, the farmers' cooperative in San Vigilio. It was an important experience because it allowed me to discover another side of the area.
No longer just mountains, ski slopes, and landscapes, but people, agriculture, hard work, traditions, and the daily labor that allows certain products to reach our tables.
I understood once again that photographing a territory means much more than photographing a landscape.
It means telling what happens inside that landscape.
My job today: telling the story of Plan de Corones
Over time I began to collaborate with the San Vigilio tourist cooperative and subsequently with the Plan de Corones tourist area.
Today my work covers a very large area, which includes San Vigilio, Brunico, Valdaora, Chienes and the Anterselva valley.
I don't just create content.
My work includes photography and storytelling of the area , following most of the events organized by individual destinations throughout the year.
Added to this are targeted seasonal shoots, designed to showcase specific aspects of the destination: experiences, activities, landscapes, people, and particular moments of the year.
It's a job that requires continuity and knowledge of the area.
To truly tell the story of a place, you have to experience it, understand its rhythms, know where to be at the right time, and, above all, understand what's worth telling.
The night the auroras came
One of the episodes that I consider most significant of my journey is linked precisely to Plan de Corones.
One evening I didn't even feel like going up the mountain.
A friend, however, wanted to try out the camera on his new iPhone and convinced me to go.
We ascended via the Furcia Pass. At a certain point, we broke through the clouds and reached the summit.
And that's where we saw the Northern Lights.
It was an incredible night.
The cold air, the changing color of the sky, the mountains, the bell, and the characteristic elements of the Plan de Corones peak.
At that moment I did what I always do: I tried to describe what was in front of me.
Using long exposures, I photographed the sky and the landscape, trying to maintain the naturalness of the scene as much as possible.
Once I got home, I worked on the images and that same night I decided to send them to ANSA, accompanying them with a short descriptive text.
I simply made them available.
From that moment on, a crescendo of attention and new opportunities began.
That night reminded me why I love this job: because you never know when the territory might gift you an image capable of telling something bigger.
A mountain photographer doesn't just photograph mountains
Today, my work encompasses many different areas. I photograph skiing and sports, events, landscapes, people, agriculture, and local life. I cover events organized by various destinations, as well as local community organizations, such as the White Cross and volunteer firefighters. And there are also weddings.
Wedding photography in the Dolomites represents another way to tell the story of this region: not through a public event or a sporting competition, but through the personal story of two people who choose these mountains for an important moment in their lives, whether they were born here or choose these places to say "I do."
In this sense, being a wedding photographer in the Dolomites means once again describing a place through the emotions of those who experience it.
My photography: natural, authentic, without excesses
If there is one characteristic that I recognize in my photographs, it is the search for naturalness.
I'm very interested in composition, but above all I'm interested in the colors remaining true to reality.
I don't like heavy filters or post-processing that completely transforms a scene. I prefer to work on light, framing, and the moment.
Whether it's a landscape, sports, event, person, or wedding photograph, I always try to maintain a connection with what actually happened in front of the camera.
I like to define myself as a chronicler of light .
Because in the end, this is what I try to do: observe the light, wait for the right moment and tell it.
Like Marcovaldo: finding wonder in the little things
There is also a literary reference that I feel very close to my way of photographing: Marcovaldo by Italo Calvino.
I'm fascinated by his ability to marvel at the little things, to find something extraordinary in seemingly ordinary situations.
This is more or less what happens to me in the Dolomites.
Even after so many years, every time I go out with my camera I can find a different light, a detail I had never noticed before, a landscape that changes completely with the weather conditions.
This is perhaps the most beautiful part of being a mountain photographer: never stop looking.
From Etna to the Dolomites
When I think back on the route I took, it almost seems like I followed an invisible line that starts in Sicily and reaches all the way to South Tyrol.
I started from a mountain born of fire, Etna.
I arrived at mountains sculpted by time, the Dolomites.
They seem like two very distant worlds, but in reality they have something profoundly similar: they are mountains that are part of the identity of the people who live there.
Coming from Catania, I found a new mountain to tell you about here.
And perhaps it was photography that allowed me to enter this world.
Because words may need translation.
An image, however, can speak to everyone, and I understood that when two worlds meet, extraordinary things can happen.
