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An italian summer night
Like a late-night summer whisper—the kind that hangs in the heavy, warm air when time seems to stall. The image is (seems) a suggestion, a spark that calls back a distant interview from 1963 in L'Europeo, Oriana Fallaci (Italy’s fiercest, most unsparing journalist) pushing to corner him, and Totò—Antonio De Curtis (the undisputed prince of Italian comedy and tragicomedy)—laying his cards on the table without an ounce of rhetoric.
When she asks if he is happy, he dismantles the very idea of happiness as a permanent state:
"Happiness, my dear young lady, is made of moments of forgetfulness."
He goes on to call them "tiny, minuscule moments when you forget the bad things."
That is precisely (I thinks) what real photography is: a moment of forgetfulness sliced out of time. When you press the shutter on a frame like this—the man, the half-figure locked in shadow, the burning ember—you freeze a fragment where the rest of the world just fades out. Erased.
In that fraction of a second, there are no trivialities, no background noise, no before and no after. There is only the sheer impact of an instant that demanded to be recorded. Totò turned it into a philosophy of survival; with a camera in hand, if we’re paying enough attention, we turn it into physical proof.

P.S. The image itself is a crop from an Epson 850Z — a digital pioneer packing an unusually fast zoom lens for its era, pushing the sensor to its raw limits to bite off this single detail from the night.





© archive manunzio.it


The "CCD Soul" & The Art of Playing Possum


This frame is a testament to the Olympus E-1 and its legendary Kodak CCD sensor. Pushing the camera to 800 ISO was a deliberate move to challenge the aesthetic of professional film. The resulting grain is a thick, cinematic atmosphere that anchors the deep reds of the leather sofa and the subject’s silhouette, mimicking the organic density of an analog negative.

At the center of it all is the model—as Lucio Dalla Disperato erotico song, would say, a "gran figa"—whose presence is the magnetic core of this visual excavation. Her gaze creates a friction that only a CCD sensor, with its film-like color science, could translate into such visceral tones.

The shot is the result of two grueling sessions—over six hundred frames where nothing was left to chance. Much like Douglas Kirkland during his iconic evening with Marilyn, using his Hasselblad to choreograph a "dance of seduction" through the lens, the photographer chose to "play possum" (pesce in barile).
The result is a psychological standoff that embraces the "Kirkland style": where a slight out-of-focus or a hint of motion blur isn't a mistake, but a heartbeat. It’s a mix of organic warmth and cold calculation. No filters, no modern tricks—just the raw, physical output of a 4/3 classic, proving that soul always beats resolution.



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