The Molera Caves are an old quarry complex in the Lanza Park, along the cycle path connecting Malnate to Cantello in the province of Varese. I’d known about them for years but had never visited—partly out of laziness, partly because other ideas always took over. Then, on a free half-day, with a grey, cloudy sky overhead, I decided to explore them. The soft, diffused light of that day—no harsh shadows, no stark contrasts—was perfect for a place like this, where daylight filters through ceiling openings, between tree branches, and lights up dark, damp walls.
Finding the entrance to the caves wasn’t difficult once I arrived. It’s an easy spot to reach, which makes it ideal for a quick photographic escape. But stepping inside, especially into the last cave, the “Mulino del Trotto”, I stopped in my tracks, struck by the sheer vastness of the space. The rock walls, marked by the cuts of old cables, tower overhead; vegetation creeps in everywhere, even in such a dark place; the echo of water droplets falling from above reverberates like a distant breath. You feel small, almost overwhelmed by the scale of what surrounds you. As I walked inside, the uneven ground and jagged rocks forced me to tread carefully, but each step revealed a new angle to observe, a new play of light to capture.
Photographing here was both a privilege and a challenge. Every corner seems to beg for a shot, but there are two hurdles: the contrast between the light streaming in from above and the deep darkness inside, and the difficulty of conveying the space’s immense size. To handle the contrast, I shot in bracketing—three different exposures for each photo—then merged them in post-production to balance the highlights and shadows. To show scale, I used a 16 mm wide-angle lens and included myself in some shots, wearing a bright yellow jacket that stands out against the grey rock. It helps to show just how big the cave is. Then, with a 200 mm telephoto lens, I focused on details: light reflections on the walls, the rough texture of the rock, shadows that create almost surreal effects.
I don’t know how long I spent there—maybe hours. I walked, shot, and tried different angles, the damp cold seeping into my bones, the silence broken only by the sound of dripping water. The final photos show the filtered light, the carved walls, the rock details. But being there was far more intense: an experience that took me far away, to a place that felt like another planet. It was a day that reminded me why I love photography—not just for the images, but for how it makes me feel alive, connected to the world around me.
