“Snow” is a photographic collection spanning several years, bringing together images in which snow is not merely a feature of the landscape, but its true protagonist. This is not a collection of the most spectacular or picturesque winter scenery I have encountered, rather it's an attempt to capture those moments when snow takes possession of a place, transforming its appearance, atmosphere and identity. The first snowfall on mountain roads, the quiet weight of fresh snow covering rooftops and familiar structures, the unexpected beauty of a city softened by winter: sometimes it's the landscape that disappears beneath the snow, sometimes it is the snow itself that makes the landscape visible in an entirely different way.
Much like my broader photographic explorations of silence and the understated character of places, these images are less concerned with grandeur than with atmosphere. There is something profoundly compelling about the way snow alters our perception of familiar environments: how it simplifies forms, erases distractions, muffles sounds and temporarily suspends the ordinary rhythm of things. There, I find myself drawn to these moments of stillness, where the relationship between the built environment and nature becomes particularly tangible. There is also a very personal dimension to this collection, connecting two places I call home: Friuli, where I grew up, with the city of Udine and the mountains around Sauris, and Switzerland, my adopted country, with Zurich and its many mountain passes.
Some of these photographs were made in conditions that might seem far from inviting: freezing temperatures, biting winds, falling snow, empty roads and an overwhelming sense of isolation. Yet these are precisely the moments I find most rewarding. Standing alone in the cold, with the wind against my face and snow falling around me, I experience a particular kind of happiness - a feeling of absolute presence, of being entirely immersed in what surrounds me. It is not melancholy, nor nostalgia, nor an attempt to capture winter as a romantic ideal. It is something much simpler and more immediate: the pure pleasure of witnessing beauty in its quietest form.