There are projects that begin not with an assignment, but with a question. A question that lingers while I move along the shoreline, through shipyards, or beneath the water’s surface. These personal works are my way of listening to those questions—of observing, slowing down, and translating them into images.

The sea is the common thread. Not in its heroic forms of racing or spectacle, but in its quieter truths: erosion, renewal, the traces of human touch, and the fragile worlds that unfold where water meets stone.

Coastal Microcosmos is a study of that threshold along the Mediterranean coast—where waves lean against cliffs, seep through beaches, or break against harbor jetty walls. I look closely at the details, at the fleeting patterns of light, foam, and algae across these surfaces. The photographs are less about describing what is there than about being present with what is passing—moments of texture and movement that dissolve as quickly as they appear.

Obra Viva turns its gaze to the underside of boats, to the living hulls that emerge when vessels are lifted from the water. Here, the images trace a cycle of growth and renewal: marine life drying, flaking, and being scraped away, only for the process to begin again.

Between and beyond these bodies of work lie other observations: weathered wood in old shipyards, fragments of paint, surfaces that speak of time and labor. They are small gestures of attention, sketches that may later become projects or remain as they are—quiet encounters with the maritime world.

Together, these works form a personal cartography of my relationship with the sea. They are not grand narratives, but intimate studies. They remind me that photography can be as much about listening as about seeing, and that sometimes the smallest detail holds the greatest depth.