From the Stage to the Still: Photographing Niccolò Rigutto

One of the surprising facts about actors is how often they are, in real life, quite shy. That contrast — between someone trained to reveal emotion on stage and someone reticent in front of a camera — is part of what makes portrait photography fascinating.

In my photography practice — whether it’s museums, antique stores, architecture, or people — what I’m always trying to do is reveal beauty. A piece of furniture has a sweet spot where its form, texture, and light make it sing. A monument has it too. Portraiture isn’t different in that regard, except that there’s this added ingredient: psychology.

I don’t know about you, but I always hated being photographed when I was younger. I still do — a little. And more often than not, people I’ve photographed have said something like:

“The photo is great — it’s just the subject who sucks.”

That’s where the challenge begins.

And it was with this mindset that Niccolò Rigutto came into the studio.

My goal isn’t to take a “nice picture.” It’s to go from:
“Too bad I’m the subject of the photo,”
to:
“Wait… is that really me???”

Who Is Niccolò Rigutto

Niccolò is a classically trained actor and theatre professional based between France and Italy. His work spans theatre performance, directing (réalisateur), and teaching at the Schola Cantorum, one of Europe’s respected institutions for dramatic arts. He is also a pianist — a discipline that quietly informs his sense of rhythm, restraint, and inner listening.

Grounded in the classics yet open to contemporary expression, Niccolò brings depth and precision to his craft. Even so, like many actors offstage, he wasn’t naturally inclined to “pose” in front of a camera. He arrived a little nervous, willing and slightly cautious about what we’d make together.

Seeing the Actor in Stillness

The very first time I met Niccolò, I had a striking insight into the nature of a true professional actor. I walked into a rehearsal where he was guiding two students through a scene from Molière’s Le Misanthrope — specifically the exchange between Alceste and Oronte.

To help the students, Niccolò stepped in to play Philinte — Alceste’s friend with a small but pivotal part in the scene. He was standing at the foot of a few stone steps, waiting for his entrance.

And in that moment, even before he spoke —
I didn’t see Niccolò anymore.
I saw Philinte.

His posture, his energy, the way his weight was set — all of it expressed character without a single line delivered. The actor wasn’t performing; he was being.

The Heavy Lifting of Portraiture

Most of us are completely unaware of who we are. We are our own worst judges. We see flaws first. We flinch at angles that don’t align with how we feel inside.

As a photographer, I try — to the best of my ability — to help someone see themselves differently. Not through filters or fantasy, but through honest light, careful direction, and the time it takes to let something real emerge. We never rush.

With Niccolò, it was about helping him see what I could already see: the quiet strength, the attentiveness, the depth that lives behind the eyes.

The Work — and the Result

The images here are the result of that collaboration: a talented actor and a photographer committed to revealing what is already there.

Some are introspective. Some are playful. All of them are real.

And that, ultimately, is what I love about portrait photography — the moment someone looks at a photograph and thinks:

   “That’s me. And I don’t hate it.”

If this approach to portraiture resonates with you, you’re welcome to schedule a session below.