To have a vision
My approach to photography has changed over time. When I started, at the age of 16, I documented my hikes and vacations with friends from the parish group, Sunday walks with my family, as well as the soccer matches in which my friends played.
I was "the one who takes the photos," called upon for ceremonies and birthday parties, tasked with capturing the posed smiles in group photos, moments of reflection and listening, and the antics made to make friends laugh.
At some point, I got fed up and abandoned photography after years spent learning how to take a "proper" photo, with a photographer friend teaching me that those who took "spontaneous" photos, with "creative" blur and other similar techniques, were not true (good) photographers, but just people selling hot air.
I had started to view street photography, as I perceived it, as a mix of compulsive photography and self-suggestion.
Part of this way of thinking about street photography still remains today, as I do not like photos of people taking pictures of pretty girls on the street, of people eating ice cream, or talking, just for the sake of photographing "people" or the "street reality."
It seems silly to me, without an idea of something to tell or a detail that connects all the photos.
I continued to photograph sporadically in the following years, especially during trips with my wife, and I began to keep portfolios that didnât want to, or rather, didnât know how to tell anything - black and white or colours or portraits galleries.
Many photos were taken with the first lens I could find, while I carried my heavy DSLR everywhere just to do a favor for my wife and have some photos to print upon returning home.
One thing I had never considered was what my gaze first settled on, even before the lens was raised and my finger pressed the button, and something that resembled the reality I observed was captured by the sensor of the digital camera.
The lockdown gave me the opportunity to take some photography courses, including one that I consider the key to entering my personal conception of photography.
Of course, during that time, there were three other coursesâtwo more technical ones, conducted with an association in Lodi, and one more "inspirational" course held by Magnum Photosâand I read a few books on the subject.
I purchased some photography books by authors I admire, and my daily commute to work allowed me to start listening to podcasts where famous photographers were interviewed about their conception of photography, as well as others discussing the most important personal photography projects of renowned photographers.
Here lies the key to understanding. I have always thought that talking about a "personal vision" of photography was something pompous and self-referential, and I have always limited myself to humbly taking photos without daring to delve into an interpretation. The most important course for me was "Seeing Through Photographs" from MoMA, which allowed me to understand why it is important to "have a vision" in oneâs photography (in the sense of having a guiding line, a concept to address through the photographic medium). I realized that this is a concept that is useful to apply even in the simplest everyday photos, while still shooting with great humility and maintaining the attitude of the amateur photographer that I am.
With respect to the professionals and protagonists of the great Italian and global photographic scene, I certainly cannot define myself as a photographer, nor would I want to be labeled a "Sunday photographer." Oliviero Toscani referred to amateur photographers as dilettantes, implying that their photography was insignificant to him compared to that of those who dedicated themselves full-time to photographing and living off photographic art, working hard, and essentially giving their entire lives to it.
Now, I grew up in an environment where people of genuine faith helped me understand that it is not healthy for a person to idolize their passions, because God (if one believes) is one, above all, and everything is ordered under Himâtherefore, photography is a tool for expression, a language, sometimes a passion, but it should not be what drives me; rather, it is better that responsibility for others and, simply, the need to put bread on the table and have time to dedicate to my family, are what motivate me.
Those who damn themselves to find success in art can become professionals or protagonists in their art, but otherwise, they remain losers who cannot find satisfaction in their livesâperhaps this is not true for everyone, but I think many who today call themselves "content creators" in search of an audience and views fall into this definition.
My vision of photography today is the same as my vision for music: what I do, I do to express myself without drawing attention to myselfâfuck the success, fuck the fame, fuck the views!
Do you like what I do? Iâm glad, and if you want to delve deeper with me, feel free.
Donât like it? Go elsewhere, because here I do everything with the freedom allowed by my means, and for the freedom of those who encounter these pages of mine.
This vision of photography translates into the production of photos that attempt to convey my perspective on reality, as is normal for anyone who has reached a certain level of awareness about what they want to express and possesses a good technical understanding of how to use their tools to do so.
In this sense, my photos today no longer depict the reality I live in, as the photos I took in the beginning did; instead, they represent an inner reflection of what reality presents to me, to which my soul, mind, and heart resonate and respond.
For this reason, I have started to connect photos from periods that are even very distant from each other but share similar elements, through projects and series that may sometimes be trivial or very simple, yet at the same time represent me at that moment or my vision on a particular subject.
In all this, all my shots are spontaneous, "candid," and draw from the direct approach of street photographyâmoreover, "constructed" photography is much more challenging to execute and requires planning, objectives, lighting, and sometimes a studio, and it is difficult to convey what I can express with spontaneous shots taken during a walk on an ordinary day in an ordinary place.
Working on a project is no longer just about taking a "proper" photo; it is primarily about reviewing my photos and making a selection based less on aesthetics and more on meaning.
In these times, when I shoot, I focus on what I see and deliberately ignore the context.
Sometimes I take panoramic photos, other times I capture details and close-ups, and often my photos have a minimalist composition that I have learned to refine, inspired by Fontana, Ueda, Ghirri, the "New Topographics" movement, and many contemporary photographers with inspirations similar to mine.
Each photo speaks of a moment frozen in time that will pass, and of the seed of nostalgia that will develop "alongside" the photo (referring to digital development in post-production and saving).
Perhaps this is why I find comfort in revisiting these photos while listening to music by Boards of Canada and other electronic and ambient music projects that are infused with nostalgia and at the same time so "in focus" on that feeling.
Itâs not about being in an altered mental state, "dazed and confused," but about immersing oneself fully in those feelings and visions.