The Clock of Santa Maria di Nazareth Church
The Basilica of Carignano, a Genoa Landmark
The Basilica of Carignano, a Genoa Landmark.
The Basilica of Santa Maria Assunta in Carignano is one of the largest and most recognisable churches in Genoa. Standing on Carignano Hill, in a commanding position overlooking the harbour and much of the city, this magnificent building is one of the most important landmarks in Genoa’s historical and artistic heritage. Its impressive scale, distinctive architecture and prominent setting make it a familiar feature of the city’s skyline, visible from many different viewpoints.
The history of the basilica is closely connected with the Sauli family, one of the most influential aristocratic families in the Republic of Genoa. It was the Sauli who commissioned the church during the second half of the sixteenth century, choosing an ambitious project intended to demonstrate their wealth, influence and prestige. Some historical interpretations also suggest that the undertaking may have been motivated by a desire to compete with the powerful Fieschi family, which had already established an important presence in the religious and political life of Genoa.
Construction began in 1552, based on a design by the architect Galeazzo Alessi, one of the leading figures of the Italian Renaissance. The project adopted a centralised layout inspired by the great architectural tradition of Renaissance churches. Its Greek-cross plan, large central dome and four bell towers at the corners give the building a remarkably distinctive appearance. The result is a monumental structure that stands out from many other churches in the city.
The basilica’s location is just as impressive as its architecture. Carignano occupies one of the hills surrounding Genoa’s historic centre, and the church seems almost to watch over the city from above. From nearby viewpoints, it is possible to admire the harbour, the rooftops of the old town and the hills rising behind the urban landscape. It is a place where architecture and scenery come together, offering a different perspective on Genoa from the narrow streets and waterfront areas for which the city is so famous.
The interior is equally worth exploring. Its spacious layout, balanced proportions and the natural light entering through the dome create a solemn and impressive atmosphere. The basilica also houses important works of art, including sculptures by Pierre Puget and Filippo Parodi. These works reflect the artistic richness of Genoa during the seventeenth century and the Baroque period, when the city was one of the most important cultural and commercial centres in the Mediterranean.
One interesting feature is the centralised design itself. This was an ambitious architectural choice for a church in Genoa during the sixteenth century. Its unusual layout and monumental dimensions make the Basilica of Carignano quite different from many other religious buildings in the city and help explain why it has become such an important symbol of the neighbourhood.
Today, the Basilica of Carignano remains deeply appreciated by the people of Genoa. It is more than a place of worship: it is part of the city’s landscape, history and collective memory. I find it fascinating to think about how much Genoa has changed over the centuries, while this magnificent church has remained on its hill, overlooking the harbour and accompanying the transformation of the surrounding neighbourhoods.
And what about you? Have you ever visited the Basilica of Carignano and admired Genoa from the hill on which it stands? Add a comment or go to the bottom of the site to read what other visitors have written.
Photos taken with a Canon EOS M100 camera and Canon EF-S 10-18 lens.
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Adv
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A Stone Lion in Front of Lavagna Basilica
A Stone Lion in Front of Lavagna Basilica.
In front of the Basilica of Santo Stefano in Lavagna, Liguria, two stone lions seem to guard the entrance to the church. This morning, I finally decided to take a photographic walk through this town on the Italian Riviera, known for its historical connection with the Fieschi family and its traditional slate industry. Among the pictures I took, this one featuring the lion in the foreground is particularly appealing to me.
I like the way the sculpture dominates the composition, while the basilica remains in the background and provides the setting. The stone lion has a strong presence, almost as if it had always been there, watching everyone entering and leaving the church. In a photograph like this, an architectural detail can become more interesting than the entire building, especially when the framing creates a contrast between the foreground and the background.
The Basilica of Santo Stefano is one of the most recognisable religious buildings in Lavagna, a town in the Metropolitan City of Genoa, Liguria, Italy. Its history is closely connected with the local community and the Fieschi family, one of the most influential families in medieval Ligurian history. Lavagna is also known for slate, a stone that has played an important role in the local economy and identity for centuries, particularly in construction and traditional crafts.
I photographed several views of the basilica, but this particular image stands out because the lion in the foreground gives the composition its character. It reminds me of a photograph I took in front of San Lorenzo Cathedral in Genoa, where I also used a sculpture in the foreground to frame the building behind it. I enjoy this approach because it allows me to tell the story of a place through a single detail without losing the architectural context that makes it recognisable.
During a photographic walk, these are often the details that catch my attention. I might arrive at a church intending to photograph its façade, only to notice a statue, a doorway or a decorative feature that changes the direction of the shot. In Lavagna, the stone lion became the main subject of the photograph, while the basilica preserves the memory of the place I visited.
I find that looking at familiar buildings from a different angle can reveal details that might otherwise go unnoticed. A sculpture that seems secondary when viewed from a distance can become the focus of an image and give the whole scene a different character.
Do you prefer photographs showing an entire building, or images that tell the story of a place through a detail like this stone lion? Add a comment or go to the bottom of the site to read what other visitors have written.
Photo taken with a Canon EOS M100 camera and Canon EF-S 10-18 lens.
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The Spires of St Mark’s Basilica in Venice
The Spires of St Mark’s Basilica in Venice.
Venice is full of famous landmarks, yet even its best-known monuments reveal new details when we take the time to look more closely. In this photograph, I focused on some of the spires and decorative features of St Mark’s Basilica, one of Italy’s most recognisable churches and an enduring symbol of the lagoon city.
The basilica stands beside St Mark’s Square, the celebrated public space at the heart of Venice. Named after Saint Mark the Evangelist, the city’s patron saint, the church has a close connection with Venetian history and identity. Its architecture reflects centuries of cultural exchange, including the influence of the Byzantine world and the commercial relationships that helped make the Venetian Republic an important Mediterranean power.
Rather than photographing the entire building or its famous façade, I chose to concentrate on a smaller section near the top. The spires, ornamental details and rising architectural forms create a distinctive silhouette against the sky. These features can easily go unnoticed when visitors first arrive in the square, where the colourful mosaics, impressive entrance arches and great domes naturally attract most of the attention.
I enjoy photographing architectural details because they offer a different way to experience a familiar place. By isolating a small part of a monument, the camera can reveal shapes and patterns that blend into the larger structure when viewed from a distance. The spires of St Mark’s Basilica are particularly interesting because they draw the eye upwards and add a sense of lightness to the building’s elaborate profile.
The basilica has developed over a long period, bringing together artistic and architectural influences that reflect Venice’s historical links with the eastern Mediterranean. Its domes, golden mosaics, arches and decorative elements give it a character quite different from that of many other Italian churches. Even a relatively small detail, such as the one shown here, helps convey the craftsmanship and complexity of the whole monument.
When visiting St Mark’s Square, it is worth looking beyond the most familiar views. Taking a moment to study the upper parts of the basilica can reveal a wealth of ornamentation that might otherwise be missed. Looking upwards also offers a welcome pause in one of Venice’s busiest and most visited locations.
For me, photography is not only about recording famous places; it is also about discovering something new in them. Venice offers endless subjects, from its canals and bridges to its narrow streets, historic palaces and quieter corners. Yet its best-known landmarks can be just as rewarding when approached from a less obvious angle. In my other photographic stories about Venice, I enjoy exploring this contrast between the city’s celebrated sights and the small details that make them unique.
These spires represent only a small part of St Mark’s Basilica, but they evoke the grandeur of the entire building. A close-up photograph cannot tell the whole story of such an extraordinary monument, nor does it need to. Sometimes a single architectural detail is enough to encourage us to stop, look more carefully and appreciate the artistry surrounding us.
The next time you visit Venice, take a moment in St Mark’s Square to look towards the upper reaches of the basilica. You may discover decorative forms and silhouettes that are easy to overlook when your attention is focused on the larger view.
When you visit St Mark’s Square, do you look up at the basilica’s spires and intricate decorations, or do you prefer photographing the entire façade and square? Add an comment or go to the bottom of the site to read what other visitors have written.
All the photos here.
The Papal Basilica of Assisi from the great square
The Sacred Convent of Assisi from the large square.
From the large square that opens in front of the Papal Basilica and the Sacred Convent of Saint Francis, Assisi seems to pause for a moment. The photo was taken under the porticoes, at that precise point where the space widens and the gaze can finally breathe. The basilica presents itself without emphasis, with a solid and silent presence, made of light stone and proportions that invite contemplation rather than wonder.
Walking slowly across the square, one has the feeling that this place does not want to amaze but to welcome. The porticoes accompany the steps, creating a natural threshold between the movement of the city and the quietness that is felt as one approaches. The photograph captures this balance: people passing by, light changing on the arches, and the facade remaining there, motionless, as if it had always been part of the human as well as the architectural landscape.
Observing the basilica from this distance, its dual nature emerges. It is a monumental place, recognized throughout the world, but at the same time it retains something profoundly simple. The stone does not impose, it dialogues. The square does not overwhelm, it accompanies. It is a space designed for pausing, for arriving gradually, perhaps even for preparing oneself inwardly before entering.
Here, in the Sacred Convent, Saint Francis rests. The basilica guards his tomb, becoming the point of reference for Franciscan memory. It is not the place of his earthly passing, which took place at the Porziuncola, in the church of Santa Maria degli Angeli, but it is the place that gathers and preserves his symbolic and spiritual presence. In these days, with the official opening of the commemorative year of the passing of the Poor Man of Assisi, this bond becomes even stronger: the memory of his death is intertwined with the place that preserves his body, creating a silent dialogue between Assisi and the plain below.
The photo tells precisely this: not a specific moment, but a continuity. The large square becomes a space of passage, of encounter, of reflection. A place where history doesn’t weigh you down, but accompanies you, and where simply pausing for a moment is enough to feel part of something that goes beyond a mere snapshot.
Have you ever felt the power of a place not by entering it, but simply by standing in front of it? Add a comment or go to the bottom of the site to read what other visitors have written.
Photos taken with a Canon EOS RP camera and a Canon RF 24-50 lens.
To see all the photos of Assisi click here:
Here’s where the basilica is located:
Commissioned by Pope Gregory IX as a special church, it was granted the title of Head and Mother of the Franciscan Order by the same Pontiff and entrusted in perpetuity to the friars. It is part of the non-extraterritorial properties of the Holy See, and therefore does not enjoy diplomatic immunity. In the complex history that has marked the evolution of the Order, the basilica (and the annexed Sacred Convent) was always guarded by the so-called “friars of the community,” the group that later went on to constitute the Order of Friars Minor Conventual.
Continue and learn more on Wikipedia
The Papal Basilica of Assisi from the great square – La basilique papale d’Assise depuis le grand parvis – La Basílica Papal de Asís desde la gran plaza – A Basílica Papal de Assis vista da grande praça – Die Päpstliche Basilika von Assisi vom großen Platz – Vương cung thánh đường Assisi nhìn từ quảng trường lớn – 从大广场眺望阿西西教宗圣殿 – 大広場から望むアッシジの教皇大聖堂
The text of this post was written with the help of ChatGPT, a language model from OpenAI.
The golden apse of San Babila in Milan
The golden apse of San Babila in Milan.
As soon as I step inside the Basilica of San Babila in Milan, the golden apse immediately draws my attention, radiating a warm glow that contrasts with the subdued atmosphere of the church. The golden apse of San Babila in Milan, located in Milan, Lombardy, Italy, is one of those details that can easily go unnoticed unless you take the time to stop and look upward.
I remain still for a few moments, watching how the golden apse of San Babila in Milan reflects the available light, creating subtle variations across its curved surface. There is a quiet balance here, where architecture and light work together to shape the space in a way that feels both simple and deeply intentional.
If you are visiting Milan and wondering what to see beyond the most famous landmarks, this is a place worth seeing in Milan for those who appreciate hidden details and quieter spaces. The golden apse of San Babila in Milan offers a different perspective on the city, one that is less about movement and more about observation.
This moment reminds me of other interior photographs I’ve shared on lucadea.com, where focusing on architectural details reveals aspects of a place that are often overlooked. Here, the golden apse becomes the focal point of that slower, more attentive way of seeing.
A small historical note: in many churches, the apse is the most symbolically important area, often decorated to highlight its spiritual significance and to draw the viewer’s attention toward the altar.
I linger there just a bit longer, wondering how many people pass through without ever noticing this quiet glow above them. Have you ever looked up and discovered something unexpected? Add a comment or go to the bottom of the site to read what other visitors have written.
Photo taken with Canon EOS R50 V and Canon RF 28 lens.
To see all the photos of the Basilica, click here:
The mosaic in the apse, depicting Saint Babila and the three children martyred with him, was created in 1890 by Luigi Cavenaghi. The lunettes between the side arches and the dome, decorated with the figures of the Redeemer and the Virgin surrounded by various saints, are mosaics superimposed in 1929 over the original frescoes by the same artist.
Continue and learn more at Wikipedia
The golden apse of San Babila in Milan – L’abside dorée de San Babila à Milan – El ábside dorado de San Babila en Milán – A abside dourada de San Babila em Milão – Die goldene Apsis von San Babila in Mailand – Hậu cung dát vàng của San Babila ở Milan – 米兰圣巴比拉教堂的金色后殿 – ミラノのサンバビラ教会の金色の後陣
The text of this post was written with the help of ChatGPT, a language model from OpenAI.
The Columns of San Lorenzo in Milan
The Columns of San Lorenzo in Milan.
While walking through Milan without a particular destination, we came across this group of columns, a place I mostly knew because of its reputation for nightlife. The Columns of San Lorenzo are one of the city’s best-known meeting places, especially for younger people, but looking at them more carefully reveals a much older story behind the lively atmosphere.
The photograph came from that moment, when an unplanned walk brought us to this particular corner of the city. I wanted to capture the columns and the surrounding space with my camera, keeping the feeling of standing in front of something that belongs to several very different periods of history.
When thinking about what to see in Milan, it is easy to focus on the Duomo, Sforza Castle and the city’s other famous landmarks. The Columns of San Lorenzo offer a completely different way of looking at Milan because the past and present occupy almost exactly the same space here. You can look at the people and buildings around you, then turn your attention to the columns and suddenly find yourself looking at part of Roman Milan.
The columns stand in front of the Basilica of San Lorenzo Maggiore, south of the historic center. There are sixteen Roman columns, probably taken from an earlier public building and reused during the construction of the basilica. Their survival makes this one of the most significant visible reminders of ancient Mediolanum in modern Milan.
That contrast is what caught my attention. On one side are the remains of Roman Mediolanum; on the other is modern Milan, with traffic, apartments, bars and people gathering there, particularly in the evening. The columns are not separated from everyday city life. People walk around them, meet there and pass through the same space every day.
I find it especially interesting that a place mainly known today as a meeting point for young people can also be an important archaeological site. You do not necessarily need to enter a museum to encounter Milan’s history. Here, the history is right beside the street, surrounded by a city that continues to change.
One small historical detail is that the Roman columns were transported and reused in the construction of the Basilica of San Lorenzo, helping create the architectural setting that survives today. Reusing Roman architectural elements in later buildings was common in many Italian cities, but here the result remains particularly visible.
For me, the photograph began with the simple surprise of finding such a historic place during an ordinary walk. We had not planned to come here, and perhaps that is one reason I like the image. Some photographs are created while deliberately looking for a subject; others happen when something unexpectedly interrupts the rhythm of a walk.
The Columns of San Lorenzo are therefore a good example of how Milan can preserve its history in places that now have a completely different everyday role. During the day they can be appreciated primarily as a monument and archaeological reminder; later in the evening, the same area becomes one of the city’s popular gathering places.
This kind of discovery connects naturally with the other photographs I have taken in Milan, where I often come across architectural details and historic places while moving through the city without following a fixed itinerary. That is one of the reasons I enjoy photographing cities: you do not always need to know beforehand what you are going to find.
In this image, I simply wanted to preserve a small fragment of a Milan where distant periods exist side by side. The columns are ancient, the surrounding city is modern, and the people who gather around them belong entirely to the present. Everything occupies the same space without needing to be separated.
If you are visiting Milan and wondering what to see beyond its most famous landmarks, this is certainly one of those places where it is worth stopping for a few minutes and looking more closely.
Have you ever discovered a historic place almost by accident while simply walking through a city? Add a comment or go to the bottom of the site to read what other visitors have written.
Photo taken with a Canon EOS M100 camera and a Canon EF-M 11-22 lens.
To see all the photos I took in Milan, click here:
Here is where the area is located:
The Christ in Santa Maria di Nazareth church
The Christ in Santa Maria di Nazareth church.
In the left aisle of the Basilica of Santa Maria di Nazareth in Sestri Levante, I photographed the Holy Christ kept in its chapel, one of the religious symbols most closely connected with my town. The statue stands inside a small chapel at the beginning of the streets that start climbing towards the Sestri Levante peninsula, making it a quieter subject than the famous views usually associated with the town.
This is a photograph of a place I know well and have passed many times. The Basilica of Santa Maria di Nazareth, also known locally as the “white” church, has a distinctive position in Sestri Levante. Leaving the area around the Bay of Silence behind, the streets begin to climb towards the peninsula and the character of the town gradually changes.
For this image, I wanted to use my camera to capture a detail inside the basilica rather than photograph the building as a whole. The Holy Christ is kept in the chapel on the left side of the church and has been an object of devotion for the local community for centuries.
If you are wondering what to see in Sestri Levante, your attention will naturally be drawn to the two bays, the sea and the streets of the peninsula. Yet the religious buildings in the historic center reveal another side of the town. Santa Maria di Nazareth is one of those places that can easily be encountered while walking through Sestri Levante and that deserves a closer look beyond its exterior.
Sestri Levante, Liguria, Italy, is known especially for its coastline and its distinctive peninsula, but the town also has a long religious and cultural history. The basilica occupies a central position in the historic fabric of the town. Its pale facade is easy to recognize from outside, while the interior offers a much more intimate setting. That contrast made me pay particular attention to some of the details kept inside.
The Holy Christ is connected to a deeply rooted religious tradition in Sestri Levante. According to local tradition, a miracle is associated with the Crucifix, helping to strengthen its veneration over the centuries. It is a story belonging to the religious memory of the town and gives the statue a significance that goes beyond its artistic appearance.
I do not want to turn this photograph into a long historical account. What interests me more is the relationship between the image and the place. A religious statue can be an artistic subject, but for many people it is also connected with personal memories and with the shared history of the community.
That is what caught my attention here. The statue has been known by generations of local residents and remains part of the town’s religious tradition. For someone visiting Sestri Levante for the first time, it may be a less obvious detail than the sea or the famous bays, but for people who know the town it represents something familiar.
I also like including photographs like this because they show Sestri Levante from a different perspective. I have already shared images of the peninsula, the bays and the coastline, but this photograph shifts the focus towards the religious heritage of the town and towards a detail that belongs to the local community.
The Basilica of Santa Maria di Nazareth is also part of the historical development of the town. Its position between the central streets and the roads climbing towards the peninsula makes it feel almost like a natural transition between two very recognizable parts of Sestri Levante. One side leads through the town, while the other begins the ascent towards the peninsula and its views.
This photograph of the Holy Christ appeals to me precisely because it does not try to show everything. It is a more intimate image, centered on a single subject carrying a story that is especially familiar to local people. That is also why I wanted to keep it: it is a small fragment of my town, far from the more immediate images usually associated with Sestri Levante.
When I photograph places I know well, I sometimes realize that there are details I have seen many times without really stopping to look at them. The Holy Christ is one of those details. Taking the photograph gave me the opportunity to observe it more carefully and to share another part of the town that might otherwise remain unnoticed.
It also fits naturally with the other photographs of Sestri Levante I have shared on the blog. Together, these images create a broader view of a place that is not only about the sea and its famous landscapes, but also about churches, streets, memories and details that belong to everyday life.
Have you ever heard the story of the Holy Christ kept inside the Basilica of Santa Maria di Nazareth? Add a comment or go to the bottom of the site to read what other visitors have written.
Photos taken with Canon EOS M100 and lens Tamron 16-300.
Inside the Basilica of San Domenico Maggiore
Inside the Basilica of San Domenico Maggiore.
While wandering through the narrow streets of Naples, I came across this important basilica almost by chance and decided to step inside. The central nave of San Domenico Maggiore immediately changed the atmosphere of the walk, replacing the movement of the historic streets with a deep architectural space filled with details that invited me to slow down and look more carefully.
This photograph came from that unexpected stop. I had not planned a visit to the church, but finding it during my walk made me curious enough to enter. Once inside, I took my camera out and chose to photograph the central nave, trying to preserve that first impression rather than simply recording the building as an architectural subject.
When searching for things to see in Naples, it is easy to think first of the streets, squares, historic buildings and views that make the city so recognizable. San Domenico Maggiore offers another way of seeing Naples, through its churches and interiors and through the layers of history that are still present inside them. For me, this is one of the pleasures of photographing a city: sometimes the most interesting frame appears after leaving the obvious route for a few minutes.
The basilica stands in the historic centre of Naples, in Campania, Italy, in the area of Piazza San Domenico Maggiore. Its position is part of what makes the place so interesting. The surrounding streets are among the most characteristic parts of the old city, and the transition from the lively urban setting outside to the interior of the church happens within only a few steps.
Looking at the central nave through the camera, I was interested in the way the architecture guides the eye into the depth of the building. Columns, altars, decorations and architectural lines create a strong perspective, while the many individual details prevent the scene from becoming too simple or purely geometric. I wanted the photograph to retain that sense of looking forward while still allowing the eye to stop on the smaller elements along the way.
San Domenico Maggiore has a long connection with the Dominican Order and has played an important role in the religious and cultural history of Naples. The complex has medieval origins and was modified over the centuries. One of its better-known historical connections is with Thomas Aquinas, who studied and taught within the Dominican tradition and is associated with the complex. The basilica and convent were also connected with intellectual and religious life in Naples over a long period.
That history adds meaning to the photograph, but I did not want the historical background to become more important than the image itself. What interested me was the experience of arriving there after walking through the narrow streets. Naples often creates these sudden changes in perspective: outside there is traffic, conversation and constant movement; inside a historic church, attention naturally shifts toward architecture, artworks and small details.
If you are visiting Naples and looking for places worth seeing in the historic centre, San Domenico Maggiore is the kind of place that can become part of a walk rather than feeling completely separate from it. Its location makes it easy to encounter while exploring the old city, and the surrounding urban fabric helps explain why the basilica feels so closely connected to Naples itself.
I like photographs that begin with an unplanned discovery. There is something different about photographing a place after unexpectedly finding it compared with arriving with a carefully prepared shot in mind. In this case, the photograph records not only the interior of San Domenico Maggiore, but also a small moment in my walk through Naples.
This way of photographing connects with other stories on my blog about churches, historic buildings and details discovered while walking through Italian cities. I often find that one photograph leads naturally to another, especially when the original subject appears unexpectedly along the way.
For me, the central nave remains the most important part of this image because it preserves the feeling of that first look inside. The photograph does not need to explain everything about the basilica. It only needs to remind me why I stopped, looked around, and decided that this particular view deserved a place in my photographic story of Naples.
Have you ever entered a historic church in Naples simply because you happened to pass its entrance? Add a comment or go to the bottom of the site to read what other visitors have written.
Photo taken with a Canon EOS M100 camera and Canon EF-M 11-22 lens.
To see all the photos I took in Naples—both that weekend and on other trips—click here:
The High Altar of Santo Stefano Church
The High Altar of Santo Stefano Church.
I had spent many years looking at Santo Stefano Church from the outside, often from its large terrace while photographing Via XX Settembre from above. Yet I had only rarely managed to step inside. For anyone wondering what to see in Genoa when exploring its historic churches, this is one of those places that can look completely different once you finally cross the entrance.
I had visited the terrace many times with my camera, using the elevated viewpoint to photograph the city below. The interior, however, remained something I knew mostly by reputation rather than personal experience. It was one of those curious situations in which I had photographed the same building repeatedly without really knowing what was behind its entrance.
A while ago, I finally had the opportunity to visit Santo Stefano Church thanks to the “Le chiese dei Rolli” event. The visit changed my perception of the building almost immediately. After being so familiar with the terrace and its view, entering the church revealed a very different atmosphere and a much stronger sense of architectural scale.
The High Altar was the detail I chose to photograph. I was drawn to the way it occupies the space without relying on an overwhelming amount of decoration. The interior felt relatively spare, but at the same time monumental, and I wanted the photograph to retain that contrast rather than reducing the scene to a simple image of the altar itself.
I took this photograph myself during that visit. After so many photographs taken from the terrace, it was satisfying to finally turn the camera towards the interior and concentrate on something I had overlooked for so long. The image is therefore connected not only to the church itself, but also to the memory of all those previous visits when I had remained outside.
Santo Stefano Church is in Genoa, Liguria, Italy, in a well-known part of the city associated with Via XX Settembre and its elevated terrace. If you are visiting Genoa and looking for historic churches worth seeing, the building is interesting not only because of its exterior position in the city, but also because of the scale and character of its interior.
What stayed with me most was the combination of simplicity and size. There was no need for a crowded composition or an excess of visual details. The architectural structure itself created the atmosphere, while the High Altar provided a natural point towards which the eye could move.
There is also a small historical connection worth mentioning. Santo Stefano is one of Genoa’s historic religious buildings and its position along an important urban route has made it a recognizable part of the city’s landscape for centuries. The “Le chiese dei Rolli” event gave me the chance to experience this familiar building from a completely different perspective.
That is also why I find this photograph particularly meaningful. I have often written about Genoa through small details and views discovered while walking around the city, and Santo Stefano fits naturally into that collection. Sometimes a familiar location still has something new to offer simply because we change the way we approach it.
The terrace had always been my reason for coming here. I would look towards Via XX Settembre, frame the view and take my photographs, rarely thinking about the interior behind me. This time, however, the camera followed me inside, and the experience became a continuation of those earlier photographs rather than something completely separate.
I have collected the other images from this visit in the dedicated Santo Stefano Church photo gallery. Looking through the full collection gives a broader idea of the interior and of the details I noticed during the visit.
The opportunity to enter the church came through the “Le chiese dei Rolli” event, which opens historic religious buildings to visitors on specific occasions. For information about future editions and possible openings, the useful reference is Visit Genoa.
Looking back at this image, I still find it slightly amusing that I spent so much time photographing Santo Stefano from the terrace before finally discovering what the church looked like from inside. It was a reminder that even familiar places can change when we simply cross a doorway.
Have you ever photographed a building from the outside for years before finally discovering its interior? Add a comment or go to the bottom of the site to read what other visitors have written.
Photo taken with Canon EOS M100 and lens Canon EF-M 11-22.
