photographer / director

I began this journey in 1972, when an album cover was still something you made with your hands, your eyes, and more than a little patience. Over the years, I photographed close to a hundred album and maxi-single covers. Some of them also became complete visual worlds, as I designed the graphics that wrapped the music in an identity of its own.

In the beginning, every cover was an adventure. How do you give music a face? No Photoshop was waiting to rescue a bad idea, no Undo button, no endless layers. Only a camera, a darkroom, scissors, glue, Letraset, and the quiet hope that inspiration would arrive in time.

The darkroom became a second home. Prints floated like ghosts through trays of developer, while the studio floor slowly disappeared beneath paper cuttings, tape, and coffee cups. Every cover was literally pieced together by hand. 

Then came the digital revolution. Overnight, the darkroom moved inside a computer. It felt like freedom. Ideas could be tested, colours reshaped, and mistakes erased with a keystroke instead of a sigh. Something of the old craft inevitably disappeared, but creativity simply changed clothes. The tools evolved; the curiosity remained the same.
And every time a new cover was finished, whether born from chemicals and scissors or pixels and screens, I felt the same quiet satisfaction. That never changed.

What remains here is not the whole story, but its essence: a small constellation of images gathered from half a century of looking, making, experimenting, failing, discovering, and, now and then, getting it exactly right.