Tamara Quadrelli

Tamara Quadrelli The ordinary, looked at long enough. Poetics of the lived · A flâneuse with a camera
Awards · Exhibitions · Publications ↓

Tamara è una fotografa minimalista italiana specializzata in architettura. Il suo lavoro esplora la forma e la luce degli spazi urbani attraverso composizioni essenziali, toni pastello e geometrie ridotte all’essenza. Radicata nella flânerie, osserva l’architettura quotidiana con uno sguardo lento e contemplativo, trasformando dettagli spesso trascurati in narrazioni silenziose. Le sue immagini sf

umano il confine tra documento e percezione, rivelando atmosfere sospese dove forma, colore e spazio dialogano in modo poetico. Il suo lavoro ha ricevuto riconoscimenti internazionali, tra cui menzioni d’onore ai Minimalist Photography Awards e a Exposure Photo Gallery con la serie Silent Beauty.

The light that bends the concrete.⁣Sacra Famiglia Church, Fratte (Salerno), 1971-1974.⁣Arch. Paolo Portoghesi, eng. Vitt...
11/09/2026

The light that bends the concrete.⁣
Sacra Famiglia Church, Fratte (Salerno), 1971-1974.⁣
Arch. Paolo Portoghesi, eng. Vittorio Gigliotti.

THE SIGNAL⁣⁣There’s a wall that remembers small hands, still unsure, pressing into color without knowing they were leavi...
10/09/2026

THE SIGNAL⁣

There’s a wall that remembers small hands, still unsure, pressing into color without knowing they were leaving a mark forever. The turquoise has dried, but the gesture stayed there, suspended between childhood and a time now flowing somewhere else.⁣

The yellow keeps faded drawings like dreams slowly forgetting themselves a house, perhaps, or only its shadow.⁣

Two walls, two seasons of the same wonder, joined by an edge that looks like the fold of a memory left behind, elsewhere.

THE DREAM THAT CARRIES THE NAME OF A BLUE COLOR⁣⁣There is a sky that stretches out like a blank page, and beneath it,alm...
09/09/2026

THE DREAM THAT CARRIES THE NAME OF A BLUE COLOR⁣

There is a sky that stretches out like a blank page, and beneath it,almost suspended between the clouds and the branches a factory writes its own name in cursive blue, like a signature left on a dream a century long.⁣

Looking at this façade its windows like lines of a musical score, its geometries dry and austere one can’t help but wonder how many lives have passed behind that glass, and how many still remain there, suspended, waiting to be dreamed again.⁣

📌 Valdagno, City of Harmony — Arch. Francesco Bonfanti

THE SUSPENDED TIME OF FERRARA⁣⁣Some buildings don’t just inhabit a city: they dream it. ⁣⁣This is one of them brick warm...
08/09/2026

THE SUSPENDED TIME OF FERRARA⁣

Some buildings don’t just inhabit a city: they dream it. ⁣

This is one of them brick warm as sun-touched skin, a tower marking the hours with the calm of someone in no hurry, a man crossing the frame like a stolen frame from a half-sleep.⁣

It’s the 1930s, when engineer Carlo Savonuzzi drew here his most intimate rationalism: clean lines, Ferrarese brick, a modernity that never turns its back on memory. ⁣

Time has passed since then, but the afternoon light still tells it as if for the first time.⁣

Ferrara, through half-closed eyes. ⁣

📌 Alda Costa Elementary School, Ferrara — eng. Carlo Savonuzzi, 1932–1933

THE MARBLE GUARDIANThere’s a house that feels more dreamed than built pale brick, cedar shadows, a sea-green gate openin...
07/09/2026

THE MARBLE GUARDIAN

There’s a house that feels more dreamed than built pale brick, cedar shadows, a sea-green gate opening onto suspended time.

And at its center, still for centuries: a stone youth keeping watch at the threshold, among wicker chairs and terracotta pots, indifferent to the century passing around him.

The curtains barely stir, letting through a flash of orange a secret, perhaps, or just afternoon light that can’t stay outside.

Here, the modern and the ancient look at each other unhurried, like two strangers recognizing one another.

📌 Villa Perco, Gorizia — arch. Umberto Cuzzi, 1933–1935

THE RED THAT BREATHES LIGHT⁣⁣There’s an hour, just before the day gives in, when buildings stop being concrete and becom...
05/09/2026

THE RED THAT BREATHES LIGHT⁣

There’s an hour, just before the day gives in, when buildings stop being concrete and become memory.⁣

The terracotta glows like slow embers, the shadows of plane trees trace secret maps across the walls, and every window seems to hold a story never fully told.⁣

Rational geometries softened by time. Urban silence, light that whispers.⁣

📌 This building is the former Casa della Gioventù Italiana del Littorio (G.I.L.) in Gorizia ⁣
now home to the “Vittorio Locchi” state middle school. ⁣
It was designed by architects Francesco Mansutti (Donada, 1899 – Padua, 1969) and Gino Miozzo (Padua, 1898 – Padua, 1969).

WHISPERS OF SUMMER⁣⁣There’s an hour, toward evening, when alleys stop being streets and become memories.⁣⁣Shutters half-...
02/09/2026

WHISPERS OF SUMMER⁣

There’s an hour, toward evening, when alleys stop being streets and become memories.⁣

Shutters half-close like eyelids tired of the sun, fig tree shadows draw maps no one will ever read.⁣

I walk slowly, almost on tiptoe, so as not to wake the village.⁣

Here time doesn’t pass it settles, like golden dust on the stones.⁣

And at the end of the alley, behind a half-open door, there’s always something left to imagine.

SILENCE HAS THE SHAPE OF A STAR⁣⁣There’s a city built around an empty center, as if its heart beat somewhere else.⁣⁣Palm...
01/09/2026

SILENCE HAS THE SHAPE OF A STAR⁣

There’s a city built around an empty center, as if its heart beat somewhere else.⁣

Palm trees stretch their shadows across whitewashed walls, a winged lion marks the hours on a forgotten sundial, a lone flag waves against a sky too blue to be real. ⁣

The arcades walk in a circle, the statues gaze toward a horizon that never arrives, and in the middle small, almost accidental a man crosses the square the way one crosses a dream without knowing it.⁣

Here time doesn’t pass: it settles, like golden dust on candy-pink facades.⁣

Lux me regit, light guides me. And in this perfect geometry, drawn by hands long gone, all that’s left is to walk, slowly, and let yourself get lost in the beauty.⁣

Una bellissima sopresa, grazie per la menzione ✨❤️
31/08/2026

Una bellissima sopresa, grazie per la menzione ✨❤️

THRESHOLDS OF ELSEWHERE⁣⁣There are doors that don’t open onto a room, but onto a time. ⁣⁣The worn green of the Teatro, t...
31/08/2026

THRESHOLDS OF ELSEWHERE⁣

There are doors that don’t open onto a room, but onto a time. ⁣

The worn green of the Teatro, the jingling gold of a curtain that promises Lucca and promises nothing at all, the barber who writes “since 1958” like a prayer, the bright orange that defies the ochre wall beside it every threshold here is a small act of faith in a country that no longer rushes. ⁣

These are entrances to houses that might not exist, to shops that might have closed, to names — Antonietta, Villa F***y — suspended between whoever painted them and whoever will never read them again. ⁣

Not photographs of doors. Photographs of thresholds: that exact point where outside stops being street and inside isn’t yet home.

Indirizzo

Marano Lagunare
33050

Notifiche

Lasciando la tua email puoi essere il primo a sapere quando Tamara Quadrelli pubblica notizie e promozioni. Il tuo indirizzo email non verrà utilizzato per nessun altro scopo e potrai annullare l'iscrizione in qualsiasi momento.

Contatta L'azienda

Invia un messaggio a Tamara Quadrelli:

Scelte rapide

Condividi

Digitare