What does it mean to be a photographer when everything seems to have already been seen?

When images lose weight in the endless stream of digital content, what remains of authorship, intention, and silence?

This series opens a space for dialogue with photographers who reflect, each in their own way, on the challenges and paradoxes of practicing photography today. In this conversation,  shares her views on visibility, creative urgency, and the place of slowness and introspection in an accelerated visual culture.

Of Apulian and Arbereshe origin and Neapolitan by adoption, Paola Francesca Barone is a self-taught photographer with a background in the humanities. Her passion for photography began in her teenage years, when she started shooting on film with a 1950s Zeiss camera, later transitioning to digital. Her early work focused on architectural photography, before evolving into minimalism, abstraction, and during the pandemic, self-portraiture, portraiture, and conceptual photography. Since around 2020, photography has become an emotional diary for her, shaped more by inner rhythms than by external timelines. As a result, her recent production is marked by a rarefied, intimate atmosphere.

Her visual language is increasingly defined by a poetics of «lightness,» achieved through the subtraction of graphic and structural elements in pursuit of a fusion between visual and emotional perception. A growing presence in her work is the use of written text, often accompanying her images to deepen their narrative.More recently, her artistic inquiry has turned toward the relationship between the individual and society, the mechanisms of the unconscious, and connections to the cognitive sphere. She frequently incorporates handcrafted manipulations during the printing process, using artisanal techniques that reinforce the thematic core of her work. Her photography has received recognition in both national and international competitions, been exhibited in art galleries and festivals across Italy and abroad, and published in specialized books and magazines.

What is the point of taking a photograph today when millions of similar ones already exist?

It’s about finding, in the camera’s darkness, the reason to photograph—seeking unexplored possibilities and creating meaningful images that open new narratives and possibilities.

Do you feel more inspired or overwhelmed by the daily flood of circulating images?

Photographs are everywhere. To the naive observer, they mirror the world itself, as if photography and reality were one. Unlike traditional images that depict events or scenes, today’s technical images—analog or digital—embody concepts, born indirectly from science. Thus, if traditional images can be seen as first-degree abstractions, drawing from the concrete world, technical images represent a third-degree abstraction: they derive from texts, which derive from traditional images, which in turn derive from the concrete world. This drives me to seek ever-new meanings despite the overwhelming flood of images we’re immersed in.

How do you make your work stand out amid global visual noise?

An image may captivate one person and leave another unmoved, so I don’t aim to make my work stand out. The urge to exhibit can undermine the creative impulse. I focus on the mental process of selection and decision. If this sparks attention, I’m delighted and surprised.

Has image saturation changed the way you look at things?

The role of images has shifted, altering how we engage with them. I strive to reclaim their meaning and poetry amid the deluge of images made for quick consumption.

Do you think we still look attentively or are we just scanning with our eyes?

Digital communication, now dominant, lacks depth of vision. Smartphones act as digital mirrors, fostering narcissism and simplifying interactions, weakening behaviors that need time and foresight. At the end of the last century, images were experienced more directly, sparking lasting encounters. Today, we lack the authentic gaze to truly see and be seen.

How does the algorithm influence your decision on which images to share or show?

While Instagram is a valuable platform for interaction, I resist being fully shaped by algorithms designed to control behavior.

How does the “like” culture affect your self-esteem or your perception of your work’s value?

Internet historian Andrew Keen noted that a click-driven culture erodes artistic depth, prioritizing form over substance. Yet, when digital audiences engage with a creative work and pause to reflect, the ideas can resonate more widely than in traditional spaces. This is encouraging but not essential.

Do you feel pressured to produce more images than you truly need to create?

The digital world’s image overload creates pressure to share and be superficial for accessibility. In my work, I seek truth and knowledge, which demand lived experience and time. So, I take as long as I need.

What scares you more: audience indifference or algorithmic indifference?

Audience indifference concerns me more—not just for my work but because it erodes meaningful communication. Algorithms lack arguments, operating mechanically, while people refine ideas through discourse, which is vital for growth.

What do you hope will change, for better or worse, in the world of photography in the coming years?

Today, many photographs offer a polished reality, stripping away their iconic value. I hope authorial photography moves beyond spectacle or mere communication, revealing overlooked values, emerging needs, and weaving new narratives, creating what Georges Didi-Huberman calls “trajectories of thought” to gather fragments of the world and shape new ones.