A Breath of Time / Un Soffio di Tempo
This body of work was born in the sun-soaked stillness of Milis, Sardegna—under orange groves and swallows calling out to each other, beside ancient olive trees that breath history and silence. It is a response to beach culture- relaxation, bare bodies, blue skies, turquoise waters, to time—folded, stretched, paused—and to places where the sea meets the land in delicate, threatened equilibrium.
Drawn to the island beach cultures of southern Italy…. Sicily and Sardinia and their liminal magic I captured the magic of locals enjoying the ocean and white cliffs whilst next to them fully dressed tourists scaled and locals Scala dei Turchi’s meringue cliffs. of the largest cities of Sicily Palermos Mondello beach swarming with locals enjoying the heat and socialisation and the rocky thresholds of Capo Gallo. To Sardinias crystal waters of the quartz beaches on the coast of Oristano west coast—I observed with a mixture of joy, awe and unease. These sites, sculpted by geological patience, now thrum with the restless footsteps of desire. The tourist’s gaze—my own included—has become a tide that swells with the summer months. What is left behind is beauty fraying at the edges
Un Soffio di Tempo is a breath, a squizz, a layered act of seeing. Shooting, assembling, manipulating—these images are not windows but portals. Through repetition, shifting scale, focus, and kaleidoscopic construction, time slips loose from its hinges. Figures drift like weird fishes across invented seas. Pavlova cliffs sprout miniature humans, crawling like ants across its delicate white sediment.
Water, ever a metaphor, becomes a mirror. A space of origin and undoing. The sea—primordial and planetary—pulls at something deep in the blood. As scholar-poet Teresa Teaiwa writes, “We sweat and cry salt water, so we know the ocean is really in our blood.” These works speak to that biological memory, and the anxiety of its loss.
We are in the Anthropocene, the era of witnessing. Through hyperreal constructs and digital alchemy, these images trace the emotional weather of living on a changing planet. They are dreamlike maps of our dislocation, attempts to imagine new ways of seeing, feeling, belonging. A breath of time is also a breath of reckoning—an invitation to reconsider our position in the tide of things.
We are the weird fishes—drifting, evolving, remembering.We belong to the ocean. The ocean does not belong to us.
This body of work was born in the sun-soaked stillness of Milis, Sardegna—under orange groves and the calls of swallows, beside ancient olive trees that breathe history and silence. It is a response to beach culture—relaxation, bare bodies, blue skies, turquoise waters—to time itself: folded, stretched, paused. It reflects on those fragile places where sea and land meet in delicate, threatened equilibrium.
Drawn to the island beach cultures of southern Italy—Sicily and Sardinia, and their liminal magic—I was captivated by scenes of locals and visitors entwined in summer’s ritual. On Sicily’s white cliffs of Scala dei Turchi, locals basked in the sun while fully dressed tourists scaled the meringue-like ridges. In Palermo’s Mondello Beach, crowds gathered in the heat and hum of social life; at the rocky thresholds of Capo Gallo, adventurous bodies threw themselves from the cliffs whilst the wealthy observed from their jet boats . Along Sardinia’s west coast, the crystal waters and quartz sands of Oristano shimmered with both lethargy from the heat and observation of the movements of
This body of work was born in the sun-soaked stillness of Milis, Sardegna—under orange groves and swallows calling out to each other, beside ancient olive trees that breath history and silence. It is a response to beach culture- relaxation, bare bodies, blue skies, turquoise waters, to time—folded, stretched, paused—and to places where the sea meets the land in delicate, threatened equilibrium.
Drawn to the island beach cultures of southern Italy…. Sicily and Sardinia and their liminal magic I captured the magic of locals enjoying the ocean and white cliffs whilst next to them fully dressed tourists scaled and locals Scala dei Turchi’s meringue cliffs. of the largest cities of Sicily Palermos Mondello beach swarming with locals enjoying the heat and socialisation and the rocky thresholds of Capo Gallo. To Sardinias crystal waters of the quartz beaches on the coast of Oristano west coast—I observed with a mixture of joy, awe and unease. These sites, sculpted by geological patience, now thrum with the restless footsteps of desire. The tourist’s gaze—my own included—has become a tide that swells with the summer months. What is left behind is beauty fraying at the edges
Un Soffio di Tempo is a breath, a squizz, a layered act of seeing. Shooting, assembling, manipulating—these images are not windows but portals. Through repetition, shifting scale, focus, and kaleidoscopic construction, time slips loose from its hinges. Figures drift like weird fishes across invented seas. Pavlova cliffs sprout miniature humans, crawling like ants across its delicate white sediment.
Water, ever a metaphor, becomes a mirror. A space of origin and undoing. The sea—primordial and planetary—pulls at something deep in the blood. As scholar-poet Teresa Teaiwa writes, “We sweat and cry salt water, so we know the ocean is really in our blood.” These works speak to that biological memory, and the anxiety of its loss.
We are in the Anthropocene, the era of witnessing. Through hyperreal constructs and digital alchemy, these images trace the emotional weather of living on a changing planet. They are dreamlike maps of our dislocation, attempts to imagine new ways of seeing, feeling, belonging. A breath of time is also a breath of reckoning—an invitation to reconsider our position in the tide of things.
We are the weird fishes—drifting, evolving, remembering.We belong to the ocean. The ocean does not belong to us.
This body of work was born in the sun-soaked stillness of Milis, Sardegna—under orange groves and the calls of swallows, beside ancient olive trees that breathe history and silence. It is a response to beach culture—relaxation, bare bodies, blue skies, turquoise waters—to time itself: folded, stretched, paused. It reflects on those fragile places where sea and land meet in delicate, threatened equilibrium.
Drawn to the island beach cultures of southern Italy—Sicily and Sardinia, and their liminal magic—I was captivated by scenes of locals and visitors entwined in summer’s ritual. On Sicily’s white cliffs of Scala dei Turchi, locals basked in the sun while fully dressed tourists scaled the meringue-like ridges. In Palermo’s Mondello Beach, crowds gathered in the heat and hum of social life; at the rocky thresholds of Capo Gallo, adventurous bodies threw themselves from the cliffs whilst the wealthy observed from their jet boats . Along Sardinia’s west coast, the crystal waters and quartz sands of Oristano shimmered with both lethargy from the heat and observation of the movements of
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