Many visitors to Tuscany bypass the town of Pietrasanta. There is no single, iconic sight associated with the town. The appeal comes from small galleries and workshops. Temporary exhibitions of sculpture, usually featuring the local Carrara marble.

And partly, perhaps, that’s because there’s no direct train from the main tourist hubs – from Florence, Cinque Terra, or Lucca, you will need to change trains at Viareggio or Pisa. But if you’re based in Pisa (which I recommend, by the way, for travellers exploring Tuscany by train) a simple 30 minute train journey takes you right into the heart of the town.

We went there to view the exhibition Human Connections by Filippo Tincolini. Tincolini is a contemporary sculptor who mixes traditional craftsmanship with modern symbolism, often using humour and pop-culture imagery. And we were incredibly fortunate to be offered a guided tour by Filippo Tincolini and Laura Veschi, the photographer who has documented the human stories behind the sculptures.

Of course I took my camera – a small Canon compact – to document my own reactions to the artworks. My favourite piece of the day was Hand of Justice, part of Tincolini’s Ancient Gods series which uses modern superhero symbolism to recontextualise classical sculpture. But the first photo I took was very average.

I was attracted to this angle because of the sense of age around the base – the distressed marble cut away from the gauntlet- and the artist sketching in the background. It tells a story of two artists collaborating, or perhaps following parallel paths. But no, there was a better story to be told. Filippo put his hands on my shoulders – his English is no better than my Italian – and directed me to another angle where I was standing directly behind the Hand of Justice.

From this angle, with the Church of Sant’Agostino in the background, the photo tells a completely different story. A story of defiance. Of conflict between art and religion. Of classical sculpture being used to tell modern stories. I wish I could take the credit, but it was the artist who, quite literally by sculpting my movements, led me to this story. It was a magical moment.

Interestingly, the exhibition catalogue tells yet another story. It places the sculpture in the context of the piazza, which makes me reappraise the piece again. This time, I see it as a classical sculpture, reacting to the marble and the craftsmanship, and not to the artist’s intentions.

Three angles, three ways of seeing. Three stories.