Post-atomic

1996, a mid-September saturday morning, summer is drawing to a close. The weather is perfect, I drive absorbed in thought towards Lignano Pineta, towards the waterfront. 

I follow the road around traffic circles, until I reach an avenue of pines, the beach. 

I switch off the engine. 

In the silence, the view of familiar spaces and places (how many weekends in Lignano!), then the surprise: in that desolate setting, under that pastel washed sky, every small detail appears and flows in a way that I have never seen before: clearer, more obvious, questioning. 

And so I walk, increasingly thinking about when I will return. Right in the cold, in autumn and winter. Entering, photographing, recording.

Then to see in those photos the spell of bathing scenes -without the bathes- that were almost metaphysical, even absurd. 

Masters of their own Adriatic, breezy silence, before the next summer.  

Clear photographs

A close-up of the horizon, made essential by the landscape and its colours.

The searching pursuit of empathy, 

of a fine tuning with the places depicted.

The astonishment of a photographer who suddenly finds himself observed,

interrogated by brazen spaces and settings, surprising and mocking.