An Abundant Amount of A
A week spent inside the Anthony Amadeo archive, editing Ahmad, Adam, Andres, Andreas, Ali, Aja, Adrian—and an almost absurd number of additional A’s.
A week spent inside the Anthony Amadeo archive, editing Ahmad, Adam, Andres, Andreas, Ali, Aja, Adrian—and an almost absurd number of additional A’s.
After writing about the subtle differences between two photographs taken only a few frames apart, I kept editing.
And editing.
And editing.
The deeper I went into my old shoots, the more I began to realize the sheer number of people I have photographed. Faces, bodies, gestures, personalities, passing expressions, accidental movements and entire little worlds have accumulated inside my archive. Some shoots I remember perfectly. Others return to me one frame at a time.
In an attempt to give this enormous archive some kind of order, I decided to begin with something simple: the alphabet.
More specifically, the letter A.
Surely, I thought, I could spend a few days going through the models whose names begin with A, finish the group and then continue on to B.
That was adorable.
One full week later, I was still inside the A’s.
Ahmad. Adam S. Andres. Andreas. Ali. Aja. Adrian J. Adam R. Adam M. Arthur. Abneudy. Aaron M. Aidan. Amaury. Antonio C. Aaron B. Andrew. Airon. Ahseem. Adrian A. Ace. Austin. Antonio P. And somehow, Aaron M. again.
An abundant amount of A names.
Each name opened another folder, another shoot and another version of myself as a photographer. Different apartments. Different cities. Different windows. Different qualities of light. Different ideas of beauty that I was exploring at the time.
Some portraits immediately told me what they needed. Others were more ambiguous. A slight adjustment to the grey scale could make someone appear distant or inviting. A darker crop could turn an ordinary glance into something almost cinematic. An image I had ignored years ago could suddenly feel more alive than the one I originally selected.
The archive was not asking me to simply clean it up. It was asking me to reconsider it.
A Week Consumed by A
After several days, the letter began following me outside of the computer.
Anthony Amadeo.
amadeo amadeo.
The abundance of the archive.
The apples I was eating while editing.
I started noticing A’s everywhere, as though the letter had appointed itself the creative director of my week. It appeared in names, signs, sentences and thoughts. Every activity seemed to arrive already alliterated.
I began assembling a list of my favorite A words—the ones that feel connected to the way I make photographs and art:
Abundant. Abstract. Accord. Aesthetic. Ambiguous. Audacious. Authentic. Accentuated.
They began to sound less like vocabulary words and more like instructions.
Be abundant with ideas.
Allow an image to remain ambiguous.
Make something audacious.
Accentuate what makes a person impossible to overlook.
Aim for authenticity, even when the photograph itself is a complete invention.
Eventually, I tried to create an A-based tongue twister. My answer to “Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers” became something like:
amadeo amadeo asked an audacious assembly of A-named artists about angles, attitude and accidental allure.
It does not become easier to say with practice.
An Assembly of Individuals
What became most apparent while moving through these portraits was that the alphabet might organize the folders, but it cannot organize the people.
The A’s have very little in common beyond the first letter of their names and the fact that, at some point, they stood in front of my camera.
One person might offer a quiet, almost imperceptible shift in expression. Another might arrive with enough energy to alter the entire direction of the shoot. Some faces invite closeness. Others become more interesting when they remain slightly inaccessible. Some people understand a strange direction immediately. Others need to arrive at it through conversation, movement, laughter or accident.
That exchange is always part of the photograph.
The finished portrait may look still, but making it rarely is. There is talking, waiting, adjusting, reconsidering and occasionally abandoning the original idea altogether. There are the conscious directions I give and the subconscious ones the model somehow understands before I have properly explained them.
Editing all these A’s together made the archive feel less like a storage system and more like an enormous ongoing conversation.
Each portrait answers something the previous portrait asked.
Advantageous Ab-Libbing
I wanted this week to feel productive. I wanted to complete the A’s, move on to the B’s and watch the archive fall obediently into place.
Instead, the letter A expanded until it consumed the entire week.
And perhaps that was the actual assignment.
I am trying to anticipate what might come from getting all this work done: rediscovered photographs, new articles, new opportunities, a more complete understanding of what I have made and perhaps even a clearer idea of what I want to make next.
At the same time, I am learning to become more accepting of the ad-libbing of activity that comes my way.
A day begins with a plan. Then an image catches my attention. That image leads to another folder. The folder recalls a person, a place or an unfinished idea. Suddenly the intended task has transformed into something else entirely.
It can feel like distraction, but sometimes it is discovery.
This was an awesome and unexpectedly advantageous week—an alphabetical excavation through years of faces, gestures and fleeting moments. I still have not finished editing every A, but I have accepted that abundance rarely arrives neatly organized.
For now, A is for archive.
A is for attention.
A is for all the people who have allowed me to photograph them.
And somewhere inside the hard drive, the letter B is already becoming impatient.
Collection 1 — Look 2
Suddenly I was a child again, watching my family make hundreds and hundreds of cookies for special occasions. Every surface of the house covered—tables, counters, chairs—lined with trays cooling before being packed into tins. Cookie tins collected over decades. Tins passed from hand to hand. Picked up by family. Dropped off at gatherings. Always meant to be shared.
This dress began as a tablecloth.
Not a pristine one—one that had lived.
One that had been folded and unfolded, washed and stained, pulled from drawers for holidays and ordinary Sundays alike. A tablecloth that knew hands, heat, crumbs, and time.
When I reinterpreted it into a maxi dress with a turtleneck, I wanted to keep all of that history intact. The marks stayed. The wear stayed. The fabric wasn’t cleaned of its past—it was elevated by it.
As I steamed the dress for the first time, something unexpected happened.
The smell came back.
Steam mixed with almond paste, flour, powdered sugar. That unmistakable scent of Italian cookies—especially the S cookies—cooling on the table, fresh from the oven. Clean fabric and warm sugar layered together. It stopped me in my tracks.
Suddenly I was a child again, watching my family make hundreds and hundreds of cookies for special occasions. Every surface of the house covered—tables, counters, chairs—lined with trays cooling before being packed into tins. Cookie tins collected over decades. Tins passed from hand to hand. Picked up by family. Dropped off at gatherings. Always meant to be shared.
What stayed with me most wasn’t just the smell, but the process.
The repetition.
The patience.
The quiet perfection of doing something the exact same way generation after generation.
The recipes were written on distressed, handwritten note cards—soft at the corners from years of use. The proportions were never small. No recipe ever made just a dozen cookies. Everything was measured for abundance. Enough for everyone. Enough so you could still sneak a few straight off the tray while they were cooling.
That’s what this dress represents to me.
Generations of shared knowledge.
Love passed through hands.
Practice, patience, and care repeated until it becomes instinct.
I attached my collection of buttons—ones I’ve been gathering for nearly fifteen years—like a timeline running down the back. Each button different. Each one chosen. Each one holding its own quiet history.
This garment was hand sewn slowly, deliberately, with the same kind of attention I watched growing up in kitchens filled with heat and laughter and flour-dusted hands.
Even without an abundance of material things, there is always an abundance of love.
And when love is practiced—over and over again—it becomes something you can feel, wear, and share.
This is Collection 1, Look 2.
A dress made from memory.
A dress made to hold generations.
Mason Williams
By the end of a year, especially one packed with ideas, projects, scents, sketches, and long conversations with myself, I crave a reset. Something stripped down. Something honest. Something that reminds me why I make images in the first place.
A reset before the year turns
Mason Williams was one of the last shoots of 2025 — and that felt important.
By the end of a year, especially one packed with ideas, projects, scents, sketches, and long conversations with myself, I crave a reset. Something stripped down. Something honest. Something that reminds me why I make images in the first place.
So Mason and I decided to remove almost everything.
No clothes.
No set.
No narrative forced too early.
Just body and soul.
This shoot wasn’t about fashion in the traditional sense. There are no garments to credit, no silhouettes to dissect. And yet — this is fashion. Or at least my idea of it. The movement becomes the garment. The tension becomes the tailoring. The scribbles become the styling.
The censor marks weren’t an afterthought — they are the fashion. Graphic, imperfect, instinctual. They sit on the body the way a well-placed seam or an unexpected cutout would. They interrupt. They frame. They ask you to look again.
Mason moved like someone listening to his body instead of posing for the camera. Every shift felt intentional without being precious. There was strength, softness, hesitation, confidence — sometimes all in the same frame. I didn’t direct much. I didn’t want to. This was about allowing space for presence rather than performance.
The room was quiet.
The light was simple.
The floor creaked when he moved.
That was enough.
I keep thinking about these images as a palette cleanser — a visual deep breath before stepping into everything that’s coming next for amadeo amadeo. Bigger projects. More collaborations. More worlds being built. But before all of that, I needed to return to the body. To gesture. To the idea that fashion isn’t always something you put on — sometimes it’s something you are.
These images feel like a threshold.
A pause.
A clean page.
A reminder that at the core of all of this — photography, scent, clothing, objects, performance — is the human form moving through space, trying to be understood.
Thank you, Mason, for trusting the process and stepping into this moment with me.
Here’s to the reset.
THE NOVEMBER INVENTORY
Every year around this time, I feel like I’m standing in the middle of my own studio floor, surrounded by boxes labeled: Keep, Toss, Transform.
What I’m Carrying Into the New Year (and What I’m Leaving Behind)
The Journal — November 30
Every year around this time, I feel like I’m standing in the middle of my own studio floor, surrounded by boxes labeled: Keep, Toss, Transform.
The end of November has always been that soft threshold for me.
Not quite the end.
Not quite the beginning.
Just the moment where I pause, look around at everything I’ve made, everything I’ve tried, everything I’ve survived—and decide what’s coming with me into the next chapter.
This is my November inventory.
What I’m Carrying Forward
The world in my head
The drive to keep building the creative universe that I live in internally—and keep opening the door wider so other people can step further inside. amadeo amadeo is not just a brand; it’s a world. I’m choosing to lean into that fully.
Dadaist humor
The absurdity, the sideways jokes, the moments where things shouldn’t make sense but somehow do. Dadaism, to me, is a way of saying: I can tell the truth by breaking the rules of how truth is usually told. I’m carrying that with me in how I write, design, photograph, and perform.
Collaging in new ways
Not just paper, scissors, glue. Collaging feelings, timelines, faces, scents, archives. Analog collages, digital collages, and life collages. I’m bringing forward the urge to keep cutting things up and putting them back together in ways that tell a deeper story.
Painting as sculpture
I’m keeping the curiosity of: what even is a painting?
Layering, texturing, pulling paint across canvas like fabric, sculpting with brushstrokes, creating pleats and folds in color. Exploring color blocking not just as aesthetics, but as architecture.
Photographing fashion through abstraction
Continuing to photograph, but always with that amadeo amadeo twist: fashion as character, abstraction as truth, the body as a moving sculpture. Making images that sit somewhere between a campaign, a memory, and a glitch in reality.
Storytelling through scent
The Codex, the incense, the skin scents and rooms that smell like memory. I’m carrying forward my obsession with telling stories through top notes, heart notes, and drydowns—turning my life into olfactory chapters.
Clowning and the act of clowning
Bellamy, A. Clown, the Town Crier—the entire clown universe. I’m not leaving that behind. I’m deepening it. Clowning as a form of storytelling, as self-portrait, as emotional honesty. The clown as a mirror.
Learning through craft
I never want to sit stagnant. I’m carrying forward the commitment to keep learning—technically, emotionally, conceptually. To master things and then break the mold on purpose. To keep asking, what else can this become?
What I’m Leaving Behind
Burnout as a personality trait
I love to constantly be creating and thinking. That part I’m keeping.
But I’m leaving behind the version of myself that doesn’t know how to pause.
I want to build more space between ideas so curiosity has room to creep in instead of being chased.
Scattered ideas
My brain loves ten tracks at once. I’m leaving behind the chaos of letting each one run in a different direction with no center. I want all the different avenues—clowning, collage, fragrance, fashion, painting—to live on one path of identity. One story, many expressions.
Self-doubt and emotional clutter
I’m done carrying the heavy box of “Is this good enough?” and “Does this make sense?” My work makes sense in the way my world makes sense. That’s enough. I’m leaving behind the extra noise that tries to convince me otherwise.
What I’m Bringing In
Reinvention of the past
I don’t want to abandon where I’ve been; I want to reinvent it. I’m inviting in new ways of revisiting old work—new edits, new contexts, new mediums, new mashups. Old ideas with upgraded skins.
New scents, new collages, new worlds
More fragrances, more Codex chapters, more collage work, more layering of mediums. New explorations—geographically, emotionally, artistically. New ways of connecting people to the amadeo amadeo world.
A deeper amadeo amadeo universe
I’m calling in a richer, more immersive version of everything I’ve started: more entry points for people to step into, more continuity between the different projects, more cohesion in the chaos.
Investigation
Lots of deep digging into my past—family, memories, early work, first attempts—to understand what my future actually looks like. Letting the earlier versions of me sit at the same table as who I am now and who I’m becoming.
This is my inventory:
what stays, what goes, what’s invited in.
If you’re reading this, you’re already inside the world a little bit.
Next year, I want to pull you even further in.
— Anthony / amadeo amadeo
Samuel by Anthony Amadeo
This series was created with Samuel, signed to The Lions.
Photographing him was effortless—he carries a quiet strength and elegance that immediately translated into something sculptural.
This series was created with Samuel, signed to The Lions.
Photographing him was effortless—he carries a quiet strength and elegance that immediately translated into something sculptural.
After the shoot, I turned the images into a set of analog collages. I love the process of cutting, layering, and reconfiguring—turning one image into two, and two into one. These pieces became about reflection, duality, and energy. Samuel’s presence—calm yet powerful—made the work come alive.
There’s something about collage that always feels like movement captured mid-thought. It’s part instinct, part accident, and all rhythm.
(Series photographed and collaged by Anthony Amadeo for amadeo amadeo.)
The Power of Scent with Arnold Kouassi
When I first came across Arnold Kouassi on Instagram, I knew instantly that I had to photograph him. There was something in his presence that felt like it belonged in the Giant Denim series—his energy, his movement, his ability to create shapes with his body that felt sculptural. What I loved most, though, was that he kept on his own jewelry for the shoot. Rings, watch, chains, bracelets—personal artifacts that added texture and narrative to the images. Those small details allowed the portraits to hold both his story and mine at the same time.
When I first came across Arnold Kouassi on Instagram, I knew instantly that I had to photograph him. There was something in his presence that felt like it belonged in the Giant Denim series—his energy, his movement, his ability to create shapes with his body that felt sculptural. What I loved most, though, was that he kept on his own jewelry for the shoot. Rings, watch, chains, bracelets—personal artifacts that added texture and narrative to the images. Those small details allowed the portraits to hold both his story and mine at the same time.
The juxtaposition of his shiny dark skin against the rough texture of oversized denim was magnetic. Every pose carried weight. Every shift in movement created new draping and new shapes. These are the moments that I live for in portraiture—when the collaboration between model and photographer creates something beyond just image-making.
But what struck me most was Arnold’s scent. It carried a familiarity that immediately triggered a memory of my aunt. A flood of warmth, nostalgia, and connection. We started talking about the power of scent—the way it can narrate an entire lifetime of memories without a single word.
I believe that the very first time you wear a fragrance is sacred. That first wear should be set aside for something special: a new chapter, a celebration, or a moment you want to lock in forever. Because scent has the power to capture a core memory. You might not consciously recall the fragrance later, but your body will remember. When you cross paths with that note again—floral, musky, citrus, smoky—it will transport you back to that exact place, that exact feeling.
Think about the first time you meet someone while wearing a fragrance. They might not register the scent consciously, but they’ll remember you. The way you moved, spoke, or laughed—all tied to that invisible, unforgettable trail in the air. That’s the power of scent. It lingers, it shapes memory, it tells a story long after the moment has passed.
For me, scent is art. It’s a medium as powerful as photography, painting, or sound. It’s intangible yet deeply human. I’m currently working on a few scent-related art pieces that explore this exact idea, and I can’t wait to share them soon.
Photographing Arnold was not just about denim or portraits. It was about collaboration, about narrative, and about memory. These images carry the texture of denim, the glint of jewelry, the shine of skin, and the invisible weight of scent—the kind that lingers in your mind as much as in the air.
Look out for more images of Arnold from this series across my other platforms. This is just the beginning.
Introducing George Maragkos
There’s a presence in the room before the shutter clicks.
George Maragkos—striking, sharp, and unmistakably cinematic—moves through frame with the ease of someone who’s been here before, even if this is just the beginning.
the first face of amadeo amadeo
There’s a presence in the room before the shutter clicks.
George Maragkos—striking, sharp, and unmistakably cinematic—moves through frame with the ease of someone who’s been here before, even if this is just the beginning.
In his debut session with amadeo amadeo, George arrived dressed in all black: pleated trousers, a leather jacket, a tailored blazer—clothing that clung to the light and carved out drama in the shadows. His Greek features carried the weight of myth, but his gestures were thoroughly modern: abstract, fluid, intentional.
We worked through reflections, distortions, and movement. At every turn, George didn’t just pose—he acted, reacted, told. A face not just for fashion, but for storytelling.
These first portraits mark the beginning of a portfolio designed to not only impress, but to mesmerize. He is the prototype of what we’re cultivating here: presence, poise, and personality.
Welcome George Maragkos, the first of many to come.
MASON / MARBLE / DENIM
For our third shoot together, Mason Williams returns to the frame—this time suspended in a moment that feels part sculpture, part dream. The now-iconic giant denim makes its reappearance, floating like a relic of fashion surrealism. Hung in air, clipped like a cutout, it becomes a real-life collage, part Venus de Milo, part downtown atelier. Mason’s form echoes the soft shadows of marble statues I sketched while wandering the Louvre.
For our third shoot together, Mason Williams returns to the frame—this time suspended in a moment that feels part sculpture, part dream. The now-iconic giant denim makes its reappearance, floating like a relic of fashion surrealism. Hung in air, clipped like a cutout, it becomes a real-life collage, part Venus de Milo, part downtown atelier. Mason’s form echoes the soft shadows of marble statues I sketched while wandering the Louvre.
Set design: amadeo amadeo.
Photography: Anthony Amadeo.
Model: Mason Williams.
Vincent by Anthony Amadeo
Photocopies of Vincent Paladino by Anthony Amadeo
Photocopies of Vincent Paladino by Anthony Amadeo
Wig by amadeoamadeo
photocopies by anthony amadeo
The photocopies of some of the archives of Anthony Amadeo.
The photocopies of some of the archives of Anthony Amadeo.
Elliot Frank by Anthony Amadeo
Petar Cvijanovic by Anthony Amadeo
Petar Cvijanovic in a strikingly graphic display of white briefs paired with oversized denim, worn upside-down. His arms slip through the legs of the jeans, creating a visual puzzle: are they legs or arms? Is the image flipped, or are we? The ambiguity of form and function, highlighted by Petar's dynamic poses, challenges the viewer's perception at every glance.
Petar Cvijanovic in a strikingly graphic display of white briefs paired with oversized denim, worn upside-down. His arms slip through the legs of the jeans, creating a visual puzzle: are they legs or arms? Is the image flipped, or are we? The ambiguity of form and function, highlighted by Petar's dynamic poses, challenges the viewer's perception at every glance.
There once was a boy named Petar,
From Jersey, where dreams animate,
In briefs and denim draped so far,
Upturned jeans as arms, contemplate.
With each pose, a story's spun,
Of limbs and fabric intertwined,
Is he falling or has he won?
In every fold, a riddle signed.
This mover, with grace so bold,
Sets scenes in surreal frames,
Denim arcs in tales untold,
Where arms are legs, and games are names.
What vision here, does truth belie?
On head or heels, does he stand or fly?
Stay tuned for more images from this series, where the surreal meets the sartorial in Petar Cvijanovic's fantastic dance of denim. Keep up with Petar’s journey and movement art on his social channels, and look out for more innovative shoots that push the boundaries of fashion and photography.
This editorial invites the audience to dive into a world where the usual rules of clothing and gravity are creatively defied, exploring new perspectives in visual art.
Form and Flow with Brian Bothwell
An exploration of body, shape, and the beauty of trust.
An exploration of body, shape, and the beauty of trust.
Model Brian Bothwell stepped in front of the camera of Anthony Amadeo for the first time today and absolutely delivered. With oversized denim and a body-hugging stocking, this shoot was all about movement, curves, and trust.
Check out more from this shoot soon at IG: @anthonyxamadeo.