date » 20-07-2026 10:57
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tags » foto lampo potenza, agency foto-lampo via pretoria, big print procedure, big balack and white, analogic era, dark room black and white, artisan printer-man black and white, allah akbar, printed matt 20 x 25, colombo boss democratic party italy, thumnerwald,
Big Print statio (part one)
Now, this is going to be a long one, so we are splitting it into two or maybe three episodes for those who have the stomach for it. And let’s be clear: "iPhone-scrollers" or compulsive Android-swipers are definitely not welcome here. Go find some other arena to release your squalid digital discharges. Likewise, the minchiapixel (coin for "pixel-peepers")—too busy measuring the size of their digital junk under a virtual microscope—can take a hike. Both of people, please go play somewhere else...continue
date » 04-07-2026 08:04
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tags » street photography, garibaldi aveva un socio si chiamava nino bixio, daylight, car on street, red brick in the wall, allah akbar, olympus c 5060 wz, thumberwald,
© archive manunzio
From London?...I don't know
Real street photography is not just another trendy, polished, or forced cliché imported from certain transatlantic circles. I do not need to mimic the trends of New York or London when you have the eye to see. The true essence lies in reading your own reality with a different sensitivity:
Finding the universal in the local: Recognizing an atmosphere from another time or a completely British mood in an everyday corner of Piazza Crispi (Potenza my town in souther Italy). Working through subtraction: Isolating a geometry, a violent contrast of shadows, and a perfect chromatic detail to dismantle the context and reconstruct a new one. Craft authenticity: Using the camera like a chisel to extract form and story from the block of daily reality (again Piazza/Crisp ad etc), without any need for poses or artificial structures.
It is the ability to look around your own corner with the same wonder—and the same geometric rigor—that you would have on the other side of the world.
date » 08-06-2026 11:33
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tags » potenza my town, southern italy in strange hour summer time, black and white, day photography, street photography, thumberwald compà, analogic era,
© archive manunzio
Ciunnella (as My Africa)
As No any regular clock, this afternoon of whispers and blindin' reflections is sparklin' all along the walls of the Società elettrica lucana— at this time Enterprise called Enel today a big energy. The sun is playin' hide-and-seek with the shadows of the Montereale pine forest up above, a holy kind of woods wrappin' up the trashman’s shack, white like lime, lookin' like some cheap Western movie western set.
Right at the edge of the cliff underneath, wide open there’s that evil, cracked-up ugly big building. On the right side, between the retaining walls and the slopes, rivers of open sewage are top-spillin' straight down toward the garage-workshop of the Calabro-lucana railway.
Behind those walls, a fuckin' beehive is boilin' with raw humanity, leanin' out of balconies with rusty-ass iron railings. Bare-chested kids walkin' barefoot, slops, manure, donkeys brayin', big spitters on the floor, mothers screamin' fit to die, and broken straw chairs with clothes hangin' to dry in the sun. Sows, rabbits, chickens, all mixed up together, no stop, no distance.
Far away, in a dog day of summer stay the taxidriver (of Piazza Prefettura—Piazza Matteotti,) elbows on the railing, is the starin' staring into space And he mutters to himself ca s' la 'ntend'—that the guy is screwin' around with a mother o. And he takes a quiet drag from his Nazionale cigarette while slickin' back his greasy hair, his eyes lingerin' on the common wood box (Wc): a shitter with three planks around it just for a joke of privacy, two holes in the ground, and the whole fuckin' countryside open right on the horizon line.
You see? No Hollywood stars here. This is raw, sun-burnt land . Shadows so black they stain your fingers, and light so sharp it cuts like a razor. Go home Yankee!
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