"In some specific scenes in a few memorable movies, the splash of red has been used as a device to arrest the viewer and drive their attention to the precise place the director wishes it to reach. I have to assume that those scenes in Don't Look Now and Saving Private Ryan must have remained in my subconscious, only to be reactivated and emerge in the form of a makeshift curtain draped over a window in a small side-street café in central Tuscany.

I have long been intrigued by the origins of that first impulse to make a photograph of anything. A great deal has been written about the subject yet all are conjecture and theory, and this is not the place to discuss the matter. But why did I feel compelled to photograph this peculiar scene? It is far removed from my normal approach, yet I continue to have a fondness for my ragged curtain. I had just paid a bill for a small cup of coffee, and looking up, noticed the red curtain hanging casually against the window, for which it was far too small. I am convinced that if the curtain had hung all the way down to the bottom of the window, I may not have reacted as I did.

Initially, I do look globally at a potential photograph to be made and then hugely enjoy the in-depth analysis of all the component parts. The decision to photograph or not is usually determined at this stage. I survey and continue to survey the scene, looking for potential conflicts that may undermine the story. In a very short time, I had established the pleasing nature of the folds in the curtain and the small red tie lining up with the crosspiece of the window. The faded yellow patina of the yellow wall was entirely fitting, and thankfully the light outside the window was not too harsh.

I had tried to include the entire window but, in my experience, there is often a collection of small signals that dictate the evolving process of composition. To have included more of the window would have resulted in too much uneventful space, and so I decided against it. I turned to ask the owner of the café if I might make a photograph, and with a half-hearted gesture of his hand, he waved me on. At the same time, I recall his expression of complete bewilderment. It seemed entirely fitting that I should have left the change to my bill on the cashier's table. I had left with something more significant to me than a cup of coffee."  Charlie Waite