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June is Ocean Month!

This year, we have chosen to celebrate it with a journey through images and personal stories from those who experience the sea up close, highlighting the value of marine biodiversity and the urgency of protecting it.

Voices from the Sea is a series of interviews dedicated to photographers who, through their unique perspective, contribute every day to advancing knowledge and awareness of the marine environment and its conservation.

The first guest in the series is Luca Tamagnini, underwater photographer and Mediterranean storyteller.

Luca Tamagnini recently inaugurated his exhibition in Cagliari, “Sardinia. Coastal Landscape – Mediterranean of the Origins”, a project exploring the relationship between conservation, beauty and transformation in the island's coastal and marine landscapes. The exhibition will remain open to visitors until September 15 at the Fondazione di Sardegna.

What is your current focus in marine photography, and what drew you to this particular subject or habitat?

I am currently working on a photographic project about coastal erosion in Italy. It is often perceived as a phenomenon directly linked to sea-level rise caused by climate change, but in reality it is much more complex. Some of its causes—and some of the potential solutions—are closely connected to the condition of coastal seabed habitats.

In this context, seagrass meadows are extraordinary ecosystems. They are among the most important marine habitats in the Mediterranean: they provide nursery grounds for countless species, contribute to oxygen production and play a fundamental role in protecting beaches from erosion.

Is there a species, animal behaviour or underwater environment that has particularly fascinated or surprised you in recent years? Tell us why, perhaps through a specific experience.

One species that has fascinated me since childhood—I was born on the Indian Ocean coast in Somalia—is the lionfish (Pterois volitans). Its recent arrival in the Mediterranean has both surprised and concerned me.

Photographing lionfish in the Red Sea or the Indian Ocean is always an extraordinary encounter. Among coral reefs, their striking red-and-white stripes and flowing fins are almost a symbol of tropical marine biodiversity.

In the Mediterranean, however, their presence tells a different story: one of ecological imbalance. Lionfish are highly voracious predators and, in the absence of natural predators such as large groupers, moray eels or certain shark species, they can rapidly become invasive.

While diving in Turkey, I found myself on a seabed where virtually every rocky crevice sheltered several lionfish. Back at the surface, I tried to warn some swimmers who were close to a rock inhabited by several individuals, completely indifferent to human presence. None of them had ever heard of the species or knew about the danger posed by its venomous spines.

Do you think your photography contributes—directly or indirectly—to the understanding or protection of marine species and ecosystems? If so, how?

Photography can help make visible phenomena that often remain largely unknown.

The lionfish in the Mediterranean is a good example. It is important to raise awareness both about the risks it poses to humans through its venomous spines and about the ecological consequences of its spread in habitats where it is not native.

Images can help build awareness and encourage more careful monitoring of sightings in our seas. This is not the first example of an alien species altering the balance of an ecosystem. In the Caribbean, lionfish have already caused severe damage to local biodiversity, decimating many native fish populations. There, their spread has been linked to the release of aquarium specimens into the wild.

In the Mediterranean, their arrival is associated with the Suez Canal, particularly following its expansion. However, without the progressive warming of Mediterranean waters, this species would likely not have adapted so quickly and successfully.

Those who have observed the sea closely for many years offer a valuable perspective on the changes it has undergone. In your experience, what changes have struck you most while photographing marine species and underwater ecosystems?

One of the most evident changes concerns the health of gorgonian coral forests in certain areas of the Mediterranean.

At Secca del Papa, off the coast of Tavolara—one of the most spectacular dive sites in Sardinia—I have observed increasingly visible signs of stress in these colonies over the years. Gorgonians are highly sensitive organisms, and rising water temperatures, now recorded even at considerable depths, are placing these ecosystems under growing pressure.

Is there a photograph or underwater encounter that, for you, best represents the relationship between the ocean, biodiversity and human activities? If so, could you tell us about it?

One of the most remarkable encounters I have ever photographed was between a wild dolphin and a young Bedouin boy in the Sinai Peninsula.

The dolphin, likely separated from its pod, had developed a very unusual relationship with this young man.

For centuries, the relationship between humans and cetaceans has been shaped largely by exploitation and hunting. Today, even dolphinariums are increasingly questioned, as the idea of forcing these animals into captivity is no longer accepted as it once was.

And yet, sometimes the opposite happens: it is the animal that voluntarily seeks human companionship. These situations are rare and delicate, but they reveal just how complex and multifaceted the relationship between people and the sea can be.

June 8 marks World Oceans Day. This year’s theme is linked to the global goal of protecting 30% of the ocean by 2030 (30x30) through stronger marine protected areas. If you had to convey this message through a photograph, what image comes to mind?

The image that comes to mind is that of children in the water, wearing masks, snorkels and fins inside a marine protected area.

I photographed a beautiful scene in the Marine Protected Area of Capo Carbonara: children swimming among large schools of saddled seabream and triggerfish. Moments like these clearly show how the sea can become a place of discovery, wonder and respect when people are introduced to it from an early age.

True conservation begins with education.

It would be important for schools to teach children not only how to swim, but also how to explore and observe the underwater world with a mask and snorkel, ideally within the nearest marine protected area. Unfortunately, in Italy it is still common for children to learn how to bait a fishing hook before they are taught to look beneath the surface and discover the life that thrives there.