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.
Collection 1: Chiddu ca tinemu
Collection 1, Chiddu ca tinemu, has existed long before it had a name—long before it had an image, a look number, or a reason to be introduced. It lived first in memory, in gesture, in domestic spaces that shaped the way glamour was understood before it was ever worn.
Collection 1: Chiddu ca tinemu
Some collections arrive loudly.
This one has been waiting.
Collection 1, Chiddu ca tinemu, has existed long before it had a name—long before it had an image, a look number, or a reason to be introduced. It lived first in memory, in gesture, in domestic spaces that shaped the way glamour was understood before it was ever worn.
Look 1 is the quiet beginning. Or rather, the moment when something already in motion allows itself to be seen.
The skirt—hand-sewn, intuitively patterned, repurposed from a vintage tablecloth—is the sole focus of this introduction. There is no distraction. No styling spectacle. Just the garment…
This collection is rooted in youth—not nostalgia, but aspiration. The kind that forms early, quietly, while sitting at kitchen tables and listening more than speaking. Watching great aunts and uncles move through their routines. Observing how they spoke about the future. How they made beauty out of what they had. How suburban life, when lived fully, could feel cinematic.
There was glamour there. Not imported, not purchased—constructed. Set hair, pressed linens, lipstick before errands. Domestic rituals elevated through care and intention. These women did not wait for a bigger life to arrive. They built one where they stood.
Chiddu ca tinemu is about that inheritance.
Every piece in the collection is made from repurposed domestic textiles—tablecloths, bed linens, table runners, lace, and unexpected household relics that carry history in their weave. These materials once lived in private spaces. Now they are reinterpreted into silhouettes that suggest women who are self-possessed, aspirational, and quietly commanding. Women who understand that intimacy and ambition are not opposites.
The garments are entirely hand sewn. The patterns arrived intuitively, guided by repetition, touch, and trust rather than rigid structure. Seams are visible. Decisions remain present. The hand is not erased. This is not about perfection—it is about presence.
As the collection unfolds, it will appear slowly, deliberately—through press, editorials, and continued documentation. Each reveal is meant to feel earned, not consumed.
This first look is not a statement.
It is a signal.
A reminder that glamour can live inside domesticity.
That heritage can be worn forward.
That aspiration often begins by watching the women who came before you and deciding, quietly, to go further.
Collection 1: Chiddu ca tinemu has been waiting.
Now, it begins to speak.
—
Closely tied to this collection is amadeo amadeo fragrance No. 37 — ECLOGUE, a scent drawn from the same domestic landscapes and private rituals. It will be stocked soon.
This is not the full picture.
It’s an opening.
Why My Best Work Happens When I’m Not Looking At It
There’s a strange season that always hits me around the end of the year. It’s a kind of creative molting. Suddenly I want to drain every old file, every half-loved portrait, every forgotten RAW, and move it all into a new home. This year, that home has become my Tumblr—my private museum, my time capsule, my purgatory of past work where everything goes to live again, even if it’s only visible to people who bother to log in.
Why My Best Work Happens When I’m Not Looking At It
There’s a strange season that always hits me around the end of the year. It’s a kind of creative molting. Suddenly I want to drain every old file, every half-loved portrait, every forgotten RAW, and move it all into a new home. This year, that home has become my Tumblr—my private museum, my time capsule, my purgatory of past work where everything goes to live again, even if it’s only visible to people who bother to log in.
As I’ve been uploading my archives, something unexpected keeps happening:
I’m realizing how many images went unnoticed for years.
Images I barely glanced at when I took them.
Images I forgot existed.
Images that now—sitting in 2025 light—feel iconic.
It’s funny how my best work often waits for me.
It doesn’t yell.
It taps.
Memory Lives in the Contact Sheet
When I look at an old portrait, I remember everything from that day—more than I expect.
The weather.
The way the subject laughed through their nerves.
What we talked about in the first five minutes.
The exact second they stopped posing and started being.
I don’t shoot casually.
I put a lot of energy forward to get people comfortable as fast as possible.
To get them to open up.
To get them to step into images that might feel awkward at first—poses that look unnatural until they become art.
It takes trust.
And when someone trusts me enough to let themselves be seen, to lean into an uncomfortable position, to give me the version of them that isn’t rehearsed… that feels like the greatest gift a subject can offer.
It’s not lost on me.
I remember that trust years later, even when I barely remember the file name.
The Non-Linear Timeline of amadeo amadeo
I don’t move through my career in a straight line.
I never have.
The amadeo amadeo “timeline” is a non-linear organism—something breathing, pulsing, shifting. It’s like a giant memory map where past images suddenly make more sense in the present, and future ideas reach back to pick up pieces I left behind.
Sometimes a portrait I shot five years ago fits better next to the work I’m making now than it ever did then.
Sometimes I make something today that feels like a missing puzzle piece from 2019.
Sometimes the future asks for the past.
That’s why archiving doesn’t feel like “storage” to me.
It feels like rearranging DNA.
Digital Clutter, Digital Discovery
I only shoot digital, which means the archive is huge.
Massive.
A never-ending scroll of unused frames and alternative angles the models can grab for their books.
The blessing and the curse of digital photography is that I always shoot more than I ever need.
But that also means there are thousands of moments that never saw daylight.
And now, going through everything with new eyes, I’m realizing the overlooked frames are sometimes the most honest ones.
The blink.
The half-turn.
The breath before the pose.
Back then, they felt too raw.
Now, they feel like the point.
It makes me wonder how many other “unseen” parts of my life are waiting for me to come back to them with more patience and a different perspective.
The Work Ages With Me
The archive is aging like a living thing.
And I’m aging with it.
Sometimes I think I’m revisiting old work… but the truth is, the work is revisiting me.
Calling me out.
Reminding me of ideas I never followed.
Whispering new directions.
Showing me what I didn’t have the eyes for back then.
Maybe that’s why my best work happens when I’m not looking at it.
Because sometimes I’m too close to see it clearly in the moment.
Sometimes the image needs time.
Sometimes I need time.
This season of re-uploading, revisiting, and re-seeing has been unexpectedly grounding.
It’s reminding me why I do what I do.
It’s showing me the threads that have always been there—portraits, faces, trust, tension, vulnerability, the ability to build comfort quickly, the quiet intimacy between artist and subject.
And it’s reminding me that the work is far from over.
If You Want to Explore the Archive
You can see the ongoing upload process on my Tumblr—if you’re logged into Tumblr, that is.
(You’d think it was 2009 the way the platform makes you enter the gates.)
But if you do choose to look, here’s my request:
Find one image that speaks to you and tell me the first story it reminds you of.
No overthinking.
Just instinct.
The best ways into the future always start with revisiting the past.
— Anthony / amadeo amadeo
Giant Jeans
A short reflection on scale, shape, and the feeling of not fitting in. A written piece from Anthony Amadeo—before the images, just the words.
They don’t fit. They belong.
By Anthony Amadeo
Published in The Journal
There was a pair of jeans.
They arrived uninvited.
No tag. No origin. No proof of purchase.
Only folds. Only volume.
They hung like silence.
They draped like history.
They did not fit.
Which, in many circles, would be considered failure.
Tailors whispered. Stylists measured.
Photographers blinked.
They tried to make sense of the scale.
“Who are they for?”
“Where are the darts?”
“Should we hem them?”
The answer was no.
The answer was not now.
The answer was: they already are.
You see, the Giant Jeans weren’t made to flatter.
They were made to frame.
They weren’t worn to impress.
They were worn to exist.
Not a fit—an environment.
Not a garment—a gesture.
They moved through light like a second shadow.
They swallowed knees, hugged air, trailed behind like stories.
No one knew how to wear them “correctly.”
And yet, every body they touched looked... correct.
People began to talk.
Theorists. Teenagers.
Former models turned archivists.
They said the jeans weren’t real.
They said the photos were fake.
They said no one would make jeans that didn’t fit.
But they were wrong.
Or they were right.
Or both.
Because maybe the point was never to fit.
The campaign, if we’re calling it that, isn’t about jeans.
It’s about proportions that don’t apologize.
It’s about shape without shame.
It’s about showing up exactly as you are—too big, too loud, too much—and realizing:
You belonged here the whole time.
You were the fit.
Let the others tailor themselves into silence.
Let them cinch and compress and conform.
Let them ask what size you wear.
You don’t answer.
You walk.
In Giant Jeans.
Moving like a fact.
Unfolding into the space that was always yours.
Photography + Art Direction by Anthony Amadeo
@anthonyxamadeo | @amadeoxamadeo
This is not a campaign. This is a confirmation.
amadeo amadeo: The Journal (SUMMER ISSUE)
The Summer Issue is a sun-soaked archive of memory, body, scent, and image. From portraits that bloom like plants to fragrances that bottle heat and longing, this issue is a garden grown from nostalgia and stretched into modern myth. Featuring editorial collage, recipes, soap, and spoken moments for hot days and cool shadows.
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.
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.
Slice of Style with Christiano
It was here, in this milieu of artistic fervor, that I first spotted Christiano Wennman. His presence was as striking as the backdrop of the show, a canvas ripe for the artistry I envisioned. Christiano, known for his work at Scarr’s Pizza in New York’s Lower East Side, carries with him an aura of cool authenticity that resonates well beyond the confines of the kitchen. The idea of capturing his essence through my lens grew irresistible. Our collaboration in New York City birthed a series of collages that are as much a celebration of his individuality as they are of the cultural tapestry that brought us together. Through these images, infused with the energy and spirit of our surroundings, I invite you to explore a visual narrative that’s stitched from moments of inspiration, connection, and sheer artistic adventure.
Slice of Style with Christiano Wennmann. Photography and Collaging by Anthony Amadeo
In the heart of Paris, amidst the electrifying buzz of Fashion Week, I witnessed the awe-inspiring debut of Willy Chavarria's AW25 collection, "Tarantula." As a fervent admirer of Chavarria’s work and his mastery in melding cultural narratives with bold, street-savvy designs, my anticipation was palpable. Paris, a city that commands the avant-garde, now played host to one of America's most compelling designers, and the show was nothing short of a revelation. Each piece paraded down the runway was a testament to community and unity, woven with the kind of joy that leaps straight from the soul. The textures—rich velvets and meticulous tailoring—paid homage to Parisian elegance while staying fiercely loyal to the essence of Chavarria’s vision.
It was here, in this milieu of artistic fervor, that I first spotted Christiano Wennman. His presence was as striking as the backdrop of the show, a canvas ripe for the artistry I envisioned. Christiano, known for his work at Scarr’s Pizza in New York’s Lower East Side, carries with him an aura of cool authenticity that resonates well beyond the confines of the kitchen. The idea of capturing his essence through my lens grew irresistible. Our collaboration in New York City birthed a series of collages that are as much a celebration of his individuality as they are of the cultural tapestry that brought us together. Through these images, infused with the energy and spirit of our surroundings, I invite you to explore a visual narrative that’s stitched from moments of inspiration, connection, and sheer artistic adventure.
The Journal: Spring Issue - Canvas of Beginnings
Spring. The mere whisper of the word breathes life into the dormant, stirring the sleeping hues beneath the earth into a riot of color. It's not just a season; it’s a vibrant reawakening, a fresh canvas waiting for bold strokes. Here at amadeo amadeo, spring isn't just about blooming flowers; it’s about blooming ideas.
This season, we dive headfirst into a mélange of creations and reflections. From the lingering scent of mimosa—those tiny suns lighting up every corner of our studio—to the crisp pages of our journals brimming with sketches, every element sings of renewal.
Tonight, a new collage set emerges, not yet named but pulsing with the same vitality that runs through our veins this season. It’s a work in progress, a narrative unfolding petal by petal, a story stitched from the fabric of everyday enchantment.
“Luxury. What is it? Not the heavy definition they teach you but the light one you feel when the details line up just so. Peeling café signs, glossy typography, the sway of a cigarette. Luxe is a bouquet bought for a few euros and dropped into a handmade vase. It’s the unrepeatable ceremony of this moment, right here, right now,” I mused in a Paris cafe, as the city's symphony unfurled around me. This sentiment captures the essence of our spring offerings, intertwining the simple with the sublime.
Anticipation is also ripe for the Fall/Winter 2025 collections. The runways have spoken, and I am eager to translate their whispers into a series of line drawings—my ode to the couture that captivated my artist’s heart.
What will bloom from the studio of amadeo amadeo this spring? Expect a confusion of colors, a tapestry of textures, and a symphony of scents. We are all gardeners of the spirit, and this is our season to cultivate.
Stay tuned, for each petal unfurls a story, each scent a memory. Dive into the spring issue of The Journal, where we pluck the days, arrange them into bouquets of thought, and present them to you—our fellow dreamers and makers.
A Canvas of Couture and Contrasts: Day 18
Today dawned prematurely, at 5:30 a.m., with the restless energy of creation pulsing through the pre-dawn silence. Espresso in hand, steaming like the city's cobblestone under morning mist, I dove into a sea of images awaiting transformation—edits, collages, an alchemy of artistry.
Today dawned prematurely, at 5:30 a.m., with the restless energy of creation pulsing through the pre-dawn silence. Espresso in hand, steaming like the city's cobblestone under morning mist, I dove into a sea of images awaiting transformation—edits, collages, an alchemy of artistry.
By eight, the day had taken shape; I arrived at Andrews hotel, weary yet eager. Together, we infused ourselves with double shots of espresso, the elixir of the sleep-deprived artist, and set forth into the drizzling embrace of Paris. Our pilgrimage led us through verdant whispers of the jardin, statues gazing solemnly as we passed, to the architectural enigma that is the Louvre.
Inside, amidst the sanctity of art and antiquity, we ventured first to the enigmatic smile of the Mona Lisa, flanked by the dramatic chiaroscuro of Caravaggio and the grand narratives of Jacques-Louis David.
The heart of the day was devoted to an exploration not of past masterpieces but of their dialogue with the contemporary: LOUVRE COUTURE: Art and fashion: statement pieces. This labyrinthine exhibition, sprawling nearly 9,000 square meters, wove a narrative connecting the ornate threads of historical fashion with the opulent artistry of the Louvre's own collections. It was a dance of decorative styles, a visual symphony played out in textiles and threads.
Here, the ghosts of couture's past—Lee McQueen's dress for Givenchy, Demna's 3D-printed marvel for Balenciaga—mingled with the echoes of history. Karl Lagerfeld’s creations for Chanel conversed silently with Galliano's reinventions for Margiela, each piece a footnote in the grand story of fashion. But none so poignant as the sight of a Balenciaga gown set against the backdrop of Napoléon III’s State Dining Room; a velvet whisper against the gilded shouts of history.
This intermingling of eras crafted a surreal tableau, blurring lines between what was worn and what was witnessed. Each piece not merely displayed but deeply integrated into the museum's fabric, suggesting a history that might have been, a past reimagined through the lens of haute couture.
Exhausted yet exhilarated, we retreated from the Louvre's embrace, our minds saturated with the day’s visual and historical feast. As we dined, the conversation turned to the upcoming visit this evening to the Foundation Louis Vuitton, where "Pop Forever, Tom Wesselmann &..." promised to continue the dialogue between historical heft and pop art levity.
Today was not merely a day lived but a day woven into the larger tapestry of Paris itself—each moment a stitch in the vibrant quilt of art and history. Here, fashion is not just worn; it is lived, breathed, and dialogued with in whispers and exclamations, set against the backdrop of a city that itself wears its history with effortless grace.
To be continued... as the narrative of art and artifice, of fabric and fabrication, unfolds in the coming days.
Lemons, Threads, and the Art of Encounter: Day 13
Dawn cracks, a lemon slice of sun through the Parisian haze. Emails float like driftwood in the digital sea, preparing me for the day’s creative tide. Mariia arrives at eleven, her presence a fresh breeze. We paint with light and shadows, lemons punctuating the canvas of our shoot, their citrus brightness slicing through the monotone.
Dawn cracks, a lemon slice of sun through the Parisian haze. Emails float like driftwood in the digital sea, preparing me for the day’s creative tide. Mariia arrives at eleven, her presence a fresh breeze. We paint with light and shadows, lemons punctuating the canvas of our shoot, their citrus brightness slicing through the monotone.
A croissant intermission, then Anais sweeps in at one. Our studio turns theatre; draped fabrics and oversized garments dance around her form, lemons once again stealing scenes. Each portrait a dialogue between texture and zest.
Post-shoot Paris beckons—a wanderlust woven through the streets. LR3 store emerges like a verse in the city’s poem, its fabrics the lyrics, Louis Rubi the poet. We converse in textures and hues, each piece I try on adds a line to today’s stanza. Departing with a wish list longer than my arm, I tumble into Chachi. Serendipity dances us around our shared memories of NYC, a brief choreography of catch-up.
Evening draws me back to my sanctuary, the retouching screen awaits—a sea of pixels to navigate. Images now begin their migration to Tumblr, digital breadcrumbs for the curious to follow. Meanwhile, the Codex Fragrances simmer in my mind, their stories fermenting, ready to be distilled into words and scents. Have you wandered through their narratives on my website? Each fragrance a chapter, each scent a character.
As night cloaks Paris, my thoughts turn to formulas—alchemy at my fingertips. The more you look, the more unfolds. What tales will these concoctions tell? What memories will they invoke?
Stay tuned, for the essence of today brews in the vials of tomorrow. And remember, in this city of lights, shadows, and infinite stories, every moment is a doorway to a new labyrinth.
What's your favorite fragrance story?
Circles, Sillage, and the Luxury of Wandering: Day 3
The day began not with urgency but with indulgence. The kind of indulgence that lets you linger over a fried egg and cheese on baguette, contemplating whether breakfast might be the most poetic meal of the day. It was quiet luxury—warm yolk, crusty bread, and the promise of Paris unfolding itself, one unpredictable moment at a time. Khanjar was my companion, oud curling around me like a secret whispered into silk. Out the door and into the streets, where everything was waiting.
The day began not with urgency but with indulgence. The kind of indulgence that lets you linger over a fried egg and cheese on baguette, contemplating whether breakfast might be the most poetic meal of the day. It was quiet luxury—warm yolk, crusty bread, and the promise of Paris unfolding itself, one unpredictable moment at a time. Khanjar was my companion, oud curling around me like a secret whispered into silk. Out the door and into the streets, where everything was waiting.
The Eiffel Tower was my destination, or so I told myself. But can a destination be anything more than a suggestion in a city like this? First, I stumbled into Perrotin. A curvy stroke of paint on canvas stopped me cold. Texture like milk solidified into luxury, color like fruit loops that remembered being fruit. Outside again, side streets called to me with their empty charm. Locals pushed against the cold, their arms heavy with fresh produce, flowers, and a baguette tucked under every elbow like a punctuation mark.
Luxury. What is it? Not the heavy definition they teach you but the light one you feel when the details line up just so. Peeling café signs, glossy typography, the sway of a cigarette. Luxe is a bouquet bought for a few euros and dropped into a handmade vase. It’s the unrepeatable ceremony of this moment, right here, right now.
Then, Arc de Triomphe. Its enormity loomed, and suddenly I was home at Washington Square Park, under its younger sibling, the Washington Square Arch. The arches held hands across time, and I walked through their shadow, on to Musée Yves Saint Laurent. Inside, an explosion of florals: sketches, textiles, silk gazar flowers pinned into couture gowns. Yves’ love of flowers mirrored the bouquets tucked under Parisian arms, and I thought, luxury can bloom anywhere, in anything.
Out the door, into Marché Avenue du Président Wilson. Fresh-cut flowers, glistening produce, the crackle of market life. It was a palette of textures and colors, a living still-life. And then, as if summoned, Parfums Henry Jacques. My favorite house, my secret altar. I won’t spoil the magic—it’s not ready to be told—but I walked out cloaked in N° 81 and Paccino, their sillage weaving an invisible path back to the Seine.
At last, the Eiffel Tower. Rising from the end of Rue Saint-Dominique, it was a chalky mirage, a dusty white painting come to life. The juxtaposition was surreal: the opulent sillage of my fragrance against the powdery street. A circle colliding with a square. And when I arrived? It was just the Eiffel Tower. A giant underbelly of steel, a moment as underwhelming as it was iconic. But from Palais de Tokyo, the tower became a background, a symbol redefined by the people photographing it, sketching it, dreaming it.
The walk home was a carousel of choices: roundabouts spinning me like a needle on a record. Dead or Alive played in my head—“You spin me right round, baby, right round.” I followed circles into circles, then stopped for a bottle of wine. Every door I passed had a round, intricate knob in its center, a portal in disguise. Circles within circles, a motif pulling the day into a spiral.
Back at my apartment, wine in hand, I thought about the luxury of this randomness. A journey that chose me. A fragrance that lingered like a ghost. A circle pretending to be a square. Or is it the other way around? It’s whatever you say it is, until you don’t say it, and then it’s nothing.
Tomorrow will be another riddle, another scent trail, another puzzle for us to unravel. Until then, let this linger. Let it turn round and round in your mind.
A Month of Creativity, Inspiration, and Croissants
Join the Journey
I’ll be sharing this adventure in The Journal and on my socials, so you can follow along with every twist and turn. There will be riddles, hints, and plenty of surprises as I weave the story of this trip. It’s a Dadaist manifesto of sorts—chaotic, cryptic, but oh-so-enticing. Join me in the comments and share your tips: the best thrift shops, fragrances I absolutely need to smell, gallery shows I can’t miss, your favorite cafe or hidden spot. Let’s make this journey as collaborative as it is personal.
In just a few days, I’ll be heading to one of my favorite cities in the world: Paris. This month-long trip is a whirlwind of creativity, inspiration, and adventure, and I can hardly wait to dive in. The air in Paris has always felt electric to me—a blend of art, romance, and boundless creativity. It’s a city where every corner tells a story, and I’m ready to add a few new chapters of my own.
New Faces, New Collages
I’ll be shooting an entirely new roster of models, and let me tell you, I am buzzing with ideas. The collage project I’ve been working on is about to take a sensory leap forward—interactive, intoxicating, immersive in every sense of the word. You’ll see it unfold piece by piece (yes, a collage pun), and I’ll be documenting everything in my daily journal. Think cryptic notes, fragments of inspiration, and hints of what’s to come. I promise it’ll leave you intrigued and coming back to watch it all come together.
The Scent of Paris
Paris is the city of fragrance, and my scent journey continues here in the most perfect setting. I’ll be working to complete the ten stories of The Codex while exploring the niche perfumeries that make Paris legendary. From tiny, tucked-away shops to the grandest maisons, I’ll be hunting down fragrances that whisper secrets of the city.
Fashion Frenzy
With Men’s Week and Couture Week happening while I’m there, I’m ready to soak up every ounce of fashion inspiration. Street style, luxury boutiques, thrift treasures—I want it all. The layers of Paris’ fashion scene, from the avant-garde to the timeless, will weave their way into my work. And yes, I’ll be sitting at cafes, sipping wine, people-watching, and jotting down ideas as the city hums around me.
The Parisian Experience
Cheese, croissants, baguettes…need I say more? Wine at sunset. The art galleries and museums that make Paris an eternal beacon for creatives. I’ll be diving deep into it all, engulfing myself in Parisian culture and letting the city guide me toward unexpected discoveries. Networking with other creatives, making new friends, and creating new work are all on the agenda.
Join the Journey
I’ll be sharing this adventure in The Journal and on my socials, so you can follow along with every twist and turn. There will be riddles, hints, and plenty of surprises as I weave the story of this trip. It’s a Dadaist manifesto of sorts—chaotic, cryptic, but oh-so-enticing. Join me in the comments and share your tips: the best thrift shops, fragrances I absolutely need to smell, gallery shows I can’t miss, your favorite cafe or hidden spot. Let’s make this journey as collaborative as it is personal.
Paris awaits, and I’m ready to create. Are you ready to come along? Let’s go!
Walter Cook: Redheads, Denim, and Surreal Shapes
AA: Walter, let’s start with our shoot—it was such a fun day!
We threw everything at it: oversized denim, an oversized black suit, and even a Ghillie suit. What was it like stepping into those surreal and abstract concepts? Did anything surprise you about how the final images turned out?
Anthony Amadeo chats with Walter Cook about abstract shoots, creative trust, and what’s next.
AA: Walter, let’s start with our shoot—it was such a fun day!
We threw everything at it: oversized denim, an oversized black suit, and even a Ghillie suit. What was it like stepping into those surreal and abstract concepts? Did anything surprise you about how the final images turned out?
WC: Going into the shoot I wasn’t sure what to expect. It was my first shoot and I didn’t have any base expectations because of that. The surreal aspect of the clothes made me feel more comfortable than I thought I would be. I wasn’t as worried about making the clothes look perfect or making sure I was standing in exactly the right pose. I was excited to get the images back and they blew me away. In the moment you don’t see the final picture, but afterwards you can look back on the moment when it was taken to see what you were thinking or doing. This just reaffirmed my belief that it isn’t about what I see or want, but what can be captured from another point of view.
AA: You really nailed those abstract shapes and ideas.
That oversized denim became something totally freeform in your hands. How did you approach working with those pieces, and did you feel like you were building something new in each moment?
WC: Working with the denim was something that felt very freeing. Trying to find different ways it would move, and to make it stay in those positions for longer than a few seconds before it fell was very fun. I didn’t think of it as clothing while trying to move it which I believe helped create some of the more abstract shapes that emerged.
AA: And let’s not forget the oversized black suit and the Ghillie suit.
The textures, the movement—it was all so dynamic. Do you have a favorite moment or look from the shoot? What stood out to you most about working with those pieces?
WC: One of my favorite looks from the shoot is when we were taking the Ghillie suit pictures. We had taken a couple of pictures before you went over and grabbed the oversized suit and pants. I was thinking I was going to change into them, but you said to just put them on over the ghillie suit. That was unexpected and created some amazing images. I personally love the picture where I have the suit over my shoulder. I remember trying to create that shot with you and I love the way it came out in the end.
AA: We bonded over both having red hair during the shoot—definitely a standout feature!
What’s the funniest or most unexpected comment you’ve ever gotten about being a redhead? Do you think it shapes how people see you or the energy you bring to creative projects?
WC: Having red hair has definitely been something that stands out while doing modeling. It can shape some shoots depending on what the photographer or brand is looking for, but with others it is just an added bonus. As you know it catches people’s eye as they are looking at potential models to work with. Even a second glance makes all the difference in the world. Something to draw the eyes in so they can see what else I have to offer. In terms of unexpected and funny comments there is one I have heard many times. “You know women would kill for hair like yours”. It always comes out at the most unexpected times or from people I have just met which makes it funny to me.
“You know women would kill for hair like yours”
AA: Modeling takes a lot of trust and openness, especially with surreal concepts like ours.
How do you get into the mindset to create? Are there things you do to stay confident and present in front of the camera?
WC: I know that the photographer has an idea in their head. Whether it is a basic concept or a specific vision. I see myself as more of an extension of that vision. It isn’t about me or what I want the images to come out looking like. I think that keeps me in the mindset to create. I am not worried about the way I look on the outside as that has been determined by someone else. My job is to try and bring to light something that someone else has envisioned. I have to work with what I am given as well as the photographer to get to that final image they are looking for.
AA: What’s next for you?
What are your plans with modeling—any exciting campaigns, projects, or new directions you’re wanting to explore?
WC: I am currently working on getting signed with another agency in New York right now. I had originally been signed to a sports and fitness division, but after a little bit I realized that it wasn’t for me. I wasn’t going anywhere and I couldn’t justify staying. I have been talking with some other agencies and am looking forward to working and having many more experiences modeling for all sorts of projects and hopefully campaigns.
AA: Finally, let’s end with some fun: if we were to shoot again, what’s the wildest idea you think we could try?
Would it involve even bigger suits, weirder textures, or something totally unexpected? Let’s brainstorm!
WC: I think trying to get pants big enough for me to fully fit in would be amazing. I tried unsuccessfully to fit in the pants during our first shoot and I think if I pull a bit harder and the pants are a bit bigger I could definitely make it work. Adding in some other textures like a scale pattern or leather might be a good contrast to the wildness of the ghillie suit. I am definitely ready for whatever we come up with and excited to create more images with you in the future. Wherever the shoot takes us is the perfect place to be.
Reflections in B&W
Anthony Amadeo's Best Portraits of 2024
Anthony Amadeo's Best Portraits of 2024
What a year it has been. Reflecting on the past 12 months, it feels like I’ve lived in a whirlwind of portraits. This year, I poured myself into refining the style of imagery I create. Each session felt like stepping into a new conversation, allowing the art to unfold naturally. My process has always leaned heavily on spontaneity—letting the moments emerge, rather than meticulously constructing them. Inspired by the rules of Dadaism, I approached my work with the belief that art can create itself when you’re open to the moment. The result? Images that capture the essence of human interaction in their most raw, unfiltered forms.
This year’s journey wasn’t without its challenges. While I embraced spontaneity, I also sought balance. How could I bring a sense of order to the chaos? How could I create stories in my images that feel genuine and honest while placing my subjects in abstract or surreal situations? It’s a juxtaposition I’ve chased: raw emotion within striking, offbeat visuals—a tension between connection and intrigue. Much of my work remained in my signature black-and-white style, a choice that has become synonymous with my creative voice.
People often ask me, “Why is all your work black and white?” My answer? It’s not just a choice; it’s a feeling. I learned black and white from Nick Dekker, a master darkroom printer who once assisted Ansel Adams. Nick was my teacher at Brooks Institute and my favorite mentor. I vividly recall him telling me, “I’m going to keep failing you, but it’s only so you can learn. I know you have the talent, and I don’t want you to cruise through this.” That lesson stuck. Nick’s encouragement to push beyond the surface taught me to truly see the image within an image.
For me, black and white distills a photograph to its essence. When I convert a color image to monochrome, it’s as if the unnecessary information falls away, leaving bold contrasts, shapes, and graphic elements. It’s where the photograph becomes an image—a piece of art.
As I look back on this year, I’ve selected 15 favorite images that represent the essence of 2024. Each one tells its own story.
Each portrait in this collection carries a piece of this journey—of chasing balance, finding clarity in spontaneity, and honing a style that feels both intimate and otherworldly. I hope these images resonate with you as they have with me. Here’s to another year of discovery, creation, and connection.
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.
Proper Mad, Isn’t It? My London Tales of Collage and Chaos
Sitting on my balcony every morning with my coffee and breakfast, I’d wait for the models to arrive, ready to capture them in the studio. Those moments—quiet, creative, and full of anticipation—defined my time in London. The collages that came out of this trip are deeply personal, yet they’re a testament to the universal magic of London. They combine faces, places, and moments into a chaotic yet cohesive whole that mirrors the city itself.
Each collage, its own story within the larger narrative of my London journey. Take your time. Get lost in them, just as I got lost in London.
London was always one of those places I dreamt of visiting—the culture, the history, the art scene, and yes, the brutalist architecture. January 2024 marked my first trip to the UK, and I spent nearly the entire month soaking up every bit of London that I could. What came out of that trip? 89 collages—each one a snapshot of my time there, blending the faces of the models I photographed with iconic architecture, quirky souvenirs, and the random brilliance of London itself. These collages, inspired by dadaism and surrealism, are my love letter to the city, and most of them haven’t even been shared yet. Let’s dive in.
The Studio with a View
I found an incredible penthouse studio just outside the Barbican. Perched atop an old walk-up building, it had a full glass wall that opened like an accordion to a balcony overlooking the stark, geometric brutalism of the Barbican estate. It was everything I wanted: inspiring, moody, and perfectly London. On the main floor of the building was an old-school diner serving a proper full English brekkie. Each morning, I started my day with a coffee, a crumpet with fried egg and beans, and that unbeatable view.
Walking (and Walking) Through London
Even though I was staying for a long time, I couldn’t resist spending my first day walking 22 miles around the city. From cobblestone streets to massive landmarks, I wanted to see it all. The V&A blew me away with its eclectic collection, while The Tanks at the Tate Modern felt like stepping into a space tailor-made for my aesthetic. I lingered at the Tate Britain, gobsmacked by Francis Bacon’s “Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion” for what felt like yonks. And of course, the National Portrait Gallery was a treasure trove of Tudor portraits.
Pub Culture and Fish & Chips
London’s pub culture is unmatched. One of the coolest pubs I visited was a 600-year-old gem called The Red Lion. A model I photographed mentioned she worked there, and I couldn’t believe my luck since I had packed my “Red Lion” hoodie from Los Angeles. It felt like fate. I also met up with Jasper, a mate who recently moved to London, and we did the quintessential fish-and-chips experience—a proper nosh if I’ve ever had one!
Fragrance Finds
Exploring London meant discovering new fragrances. Jovoy introduced me to Khanjar by Omanluxury, an animalic, oud-heavy masterpiece that’s now a favourite. At Harrods’ Salon de Parfums, I indulged in luxury scent heaven. The Henry Jacques boutique, especially their Harrods-exclusive “Royal Dream,” felt like stepping into olfactory royalty—iris and amber blending into something regal yet warm. Absolute bang-on, if you ask me.
Collaging in London
The models I photographed in my studio had no idea what their portraits would become. I started the editing process right there in London, finding a small local printing shop to bring my images to life. The collages began with tearing, cutting, and rearranging, channeling the random, chaotic energy of dadaism. Some were surreal, others focused on juxtaposing the human form with the stark lines of London’s architecture. A few even included souvenir postcards I picked up along the way.
Once back in the States, the real fun began. Ripping and manipulating the images further, I aimed to create works that truly embodied the essence of London—its vibrancy, grit, and charm. Video collages came next, inspired by the absurd brilliance of Monty Python, adding a playful layer to the series. You can see these on my Instagram (@Anthonyxamadeo).
Vintage Finds and Local Gems
Spitalfields and Brick Lane were vintage shopping paradises. I picked up a vintage shearling bomber from a retired vet who was selling his collection of military uniforms. We had a good chinwag, and the experience felt as priceless as the jacket itself. Borough Market became my go-to for food, especially the cheeses. I’ll never forget the orange blue cheese—absolutely lush.
The Full Circle
Sitting on my balcony every morning with my coffee and breakfast, I’d wait for the models to arrive, ready to capture them in the studio. Those moments—quiet, creative, and full of anticipation—defined my time in London. The collages that came out of this trip are deeply personal, yet they’re a testament to the universal magic of London. They combine faces, places, and moments into a chaotic yet cohesive whole that mirrors the city itself.
Each collage, its own story within the larger narrative of my London journey. Take your time. Get lost in them, just as I got lost in London.
P.S. I can’t wait to share what I’m stirring up for Paris 2025. Stay tuned!