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.
Read MoreIn the grand spectacle that is Women's AW25, the runways were ablaze with visions that fused the past with bold strides into future fashion. From the get-go, the structured tailoring of the 50s and 60s was unmissable, with collections showcasing slim hoods and the dramatic play between textures and colors. Broad shoulders tapered down to slim legs, a silhouette that both honors and reinvents classic proportions. The palettes? A symphony of jewel tones, each more captivating than the last.
Read MoreIt 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.
Read MoreAA: Jamil, it was such a pleasure photographing you during your visit to NYC!
Your profile is incredible to photograph, and you brought such a strong energy to the shoot. How was the experience for you, especially being part of the giant denim jeans series?
Tomorrow, the echoes of my steps will fade from these cobblestone streets, yet today, the city still pulses beneath my feet. Paris, you are a manuscript written in the ink of infinite encounters, a palimpsest of creativity and chaos. How to encapsulate this whirlwind? Let us dive into the looking glass, reflect backwards, upside down, inside out.
Read MoreFebruary 3rd unfurls beneath the Parisian skyline—a prelude to departure. In the quiet predawn, I delve into the chaos of creation, sifting through a month's accumulation of Paris. My temporary atelier is strewn with the ephemera of inspiration: receipts and stickers, torn art from ancient walls, cards and crumpled papers, the fragile skeletons of pastries devoured, wine corks with tales steeped in tannins.
Read MoreIn the dwindling days of this Parisian saga, each moment distills into a cryptic concoction, a question posed in the language of creation. What tales do these streets whisper into the vials of my forthcoming fragrances? Each essence a chapter, every note a narrative—10 fragrances, 10 stories, 10 invitations to delve deeper into the world of Amadeo Amadeo.
Read MoreAwakened before dawn, I ventured forth—across the Seine, to the pulse of Paris waking. The morning called for a whimsical visit to Café du Clown. A. Clown surfaced, mischief in tow, craving the playful side of the Parisian palette.
Read MoreEphemeral Whispers of the Seine
Mirror echoes in chiaroscuro skies, juxtapose, collide, cradle— A day never lived, a night never slept. Croissant moon phases flipping through fabric swatches, each thread a lifeline to yesterday’s espresso dream.
Read MoreDraw, O coward! No, sir, panic is a basic in a prison.
Rip, cut, collect. Art, a star. Collages, so elegant. A canal, plan, a NASA lad. Did I as I said I’d do? O, stone, be not so.
Read MoreJuxtaposition [ˌjʌk.stə.pəˈzɪʃ.ən]
n. A harmony of contradictions; where ancient cobblestones meet the fleeting shadow of a modern wanderer, both claiming the same moment in time yet centuries apart.
Today unfurls like a scroll, inked with tasks yet written in the frenzied script of a mind ablaze. I am the eye of a creative storm, each gust a gale of ideas swirling, threatening to overtake my capacity to channel them into the tangible. Work, work, work—the mantra pulses in my veins, a rhythm beating against the ticking clock.
Read MoreThe dawn unfurled with a rare generosity today—the sun, a long-absent friend, decided to grace Paris with its radiant presence. As the light spilled through my window, I was at my workstation, espresso at my side, fingers dancing over images needing the breath of life through retouching. But the sun’s embrace was too compelling, whispering promises of inspiration through the golden warmth.
Read MoreToday 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.
Read MoreAwakened at the witching hour—4:30 a.m., the city still cloaked in its nocturnal shroud. Sleep's remnants cling like cobwebs, but the allure of the undone propels me from bed to workstation. The glow of the screen, my sole companion, as I bend light and shadow to my will until dawn.
Read MoreThis morning dawned like an open canvas—espresso steam twirling into the early air, mingling with the anticipation of creative communion. The ritual shower left my thoughts clearer, my senses sharper, ready to dance with the day's demands. As the clock nudged closer to eleven, I descended to greet Martin, my co-conspirator for today's visual symphony. With a quick dash for an Americano—my fuel—I primed us for the unfolding artistry.
Read MoreDawn unfurled with the usual urgency; my retouching station beckoned. Prints lay scattered like leaves, each one a prelude to destruction and rebirth through collage. Ripping, tearing, reassembling—today was a day for creating chaos that begets beauty.
Read MoreAwoke with the dawn, a puzzle waiting to be solved. First, Lasse—our red locks a clue to the camaraderie and creativity that would unfold. Click, flash, a mystery captured in each frame. What tales do these images whisper?
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