What does it mean to create portraits in a world where faces are endlessly exposed, shared, and forgotten?
When every expression risks dissolving into noise, how can photography recover intimacy, stillness, and presence?
This conversation opens a window into the work of Salvatore Montemagno, an Italian photographer from Gela, now based in Montichiari. Self-taught, he has developed a visual language rooted in the quiet influence of 20th-century painting and the suspended tension of cinema. His portraits, imbued with painterly atmospheres, explore themes of absence, memory, and psychological resonance images that linger like unfinished stories.
Exhibited in Milan, Paris, London, and New York, and awarded internationally—including New Talent of the Year at the Moscow International Foto Awards—Montemagno’s work resists spectacle. Instead, it favors slowness, nuance, and emotional depth, crafting photographs that whisper rather than shout, reminding us that in silence the human face can still reveal its most enduring truths.[Official Website]
What is the point of taking a photograph today when millions of similar ones already exist?
For me, taking photographs is still a necessary act. Even though millions of images already exist, none of them carries exactly my gaze, my sensitivity, my story. I shoot because I feel the need to freeze something that moves through me, to give visual form to emotions that would otherwise remain silent.
Do you feel more inspired or overwhelmed by the daily flood of circulating images?
Both. Sometimes I feel inspired, especially when I come across works that are deep and authentic. Other times, I feel visually fatigued too many stimuli, too much surface. In those moments, I feel the urge to retreat and return to my inner rhythm.
How do you make your work stand out amid global visual noise?
I don’t try to stand out by shouting. I try to stay faithful to a quiet, intimate voice. I work a lot on what is unsaid on suspended atmospheres, on what suggests more than it shows. That’s the path I’ve chosen to remain recognizable, even amid the noise.
Has image saturation changed the way you look at things?
Yes, it has sharpened my gaze. It has taught me to search for visual silence, to look more deeply. I’ve learned to strip away what’s superfluous and focus only on what truly resonates with me.
Do you think we still look attentively, or are we just scanning with our eyes?
Most people today scroll more than they look. But photography if it’s sincere can still make us stop. When I create an image, I try to build something that forces the viewer to slow down.
How does the algorithm influence your decision on which images to share or show?
I know certain images will “perform” better online, but that’s not what guides me. I choose to share what truly represents me, even if it goes unnoticed. I’d rather be consistent with myself than chase fleeting visibility.
How does the “like” culture affect your self-esteem or your perception of your work’s value?
I try not to let it affect me. Some of my most meaningful photographs are also the least “liked” online. The value of my work lies in its ability to touch someone deeply not in the numbers.
Do you feel pressured to produce more images than you truly need to create?
Yes, the pressure exists. But over time, I’ve learned to protect my creative pace. I don’t shoot to fill a void I do it only when I feel it’s truly worth it. I prefer a few authentic images to a continuous and hollow flow.
What scares you more: audience indifference or algorithmic indifference?
Algorithmic indifference scares me more, because it’s blind and mechanical. Audience indifference, on the other hand, is part of the process and it can be an opportunity to question myself, to grow, to recalibrate.
What do you hope will change, for better or worse, in the world of photography in the coming years?
I hope we return to valuing photography as a deep act not just as content to consume. I’d like images to go back to telling, questioning, enduring. And I hope viewers will learn to truly look again.
