|
||
|
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, 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 to find these horizons. A Little quiet trip, that I will repeat, in that days that need a pause to town's claxons and beat. Parking the car. Smoking a cigarette (when I smoked). Right in the cold, in autumn and winter. Entering, photographing, recording. Then to see in 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 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. |
|
