I trace the origins of my project back to 2008, though my photographic output that year was minimal. My brief stay during the late summer was marked by frustration—narrow streets overwhelmed by throngs of tourists, each pausing incessantly to capture themselves with pocket cameras. The idea of finding a moment of solitude within the canals felt almost utopian. A few years later, the proliferation of smartphones with cameras only exacerbated the situation.

It wasn’t until two years later that I fully committed to photographing Venice. During a whirlwind, three-day visit in late winter, drawn by an exhibition on Leonardo da Vinci at the breathtaking Gallerie dell’Accademia, I sensed a shift. The atmosphere had changed, rain and fog dominated the mornings, while overcast skies made the light consistent, enveloping landscape and city in a dense, grey and slightly unsettling humid shroud. These conditions, coupled with the absence of mass tourism, provided an ideal setting for the vision I had in mind—to capture the essence of the city in its purest form.

Like so many before me—even prior to the invention of photography, when brush-to canvas or pencil-to-paper was the available medium—I initially gravitated toward Venice’s most celebrated landmarks. I retraced the steps of Carpaccio, Canaletto and Guardi, photographing the very buildings and historical sites they had immortalized in their paintings. Yet, despite my efforts, the resulting images felt uninspired, and my enthusiasm began to wane.

For the next two years, I continued this exercise, refining my approach. In 2019, I made a deliberate decision to veer from the well-trodden path. I began experimenting with long exposures to eliminate distractions, ensuring that no passing figures, animals, or moving boats would appear in my photographs. My aim was to present an unblemished, undisturbed vision of the landscape. This gradual evolution led me to an even greater realization: the iconic landmarks of Venice—the Basilica of San Marco, the Bridge of Sighs, the Rialto Bridge, and the ubiquitous gondolas, to name only a few—no longer resonated or aligned with the project I wanted to develop. While undeniably beautiful, they had become too familiar, too often reproduced. I chose to archive those images and look elsewhere.

As I wandered beyond—exploring the city’s edges, observing the daily lives of Venetians, and venturing to the surrounding islands of the north—I discovered what I believe to be Venice’s true icon: the Venetian lagoon. After seventeen years of photographing and at times living in Venice, my focus has been to document its lesser-seen areas—urban and otherwise—and the fragile ecosystem that defines them. These are places untouched by tourism, sites that embody the roots and livelihoods of Venetians—spaces that deserve to be protected and preserved.

Some have called me audacious, even foolish, for this approach. But Venice is more than its famous monuments we’ve seen reproduced since time immemorial across every significant medium; it is a breathing and fragile patrimony shaped by the water that surrounds it. The photographs in this project—primarily the black and white work—are my attempt to expand the narrative, to offer a broader perspective on a city whose true essence lies beyond the icons we have come to expect.