Tourn the light on Photographs
Photography is an exercise in observation…
…and to be honest the result is always a stroke of luck!
World Surfing Championship
This is one of my favorite albums! I had a lot of fun working on it and would like to create more similar ones. Two very different reportages but from the same trip, I was returning from my adventure and life in Cantabria, we crossed the coast of northern Spain to France to return to Italy and we stopped a week in Hossegor to watch the stage of the world championship in surf. I’ve never been a racing fan but it was a great opportunity to have some great shots. Our adventure began in the car, the first night we had to pass in a car in front of the beach, we died of cold! I remember the excitement of waking up early and being able to see the surfers come into the sea at dawn to train, but I remember even better the cold I felt under the wool blankets and the humidity of the car.
Then we arrived in Milan, the surfers in my mind continued to compete and leave trails in the sky, taking advantage of the architectural lines that the city made available to them. They wrote trails of maddened foam dancing rebellious like sea dancers on urban stages.
I often go to Switzerland, a precious diamond set in Europe, a yellow flower sprouted from concrete, a fairy landscape inside a crystal ball full of snow.
Observing the towns, the shops, the families, I like to notice their attachment and romanticism to the past and to what is handmade and with love, to the craftsman, and to their propensity for the future, for what works and what it produces. . It is the perfect balance between romantic and meticulous love and strong and enterprising one. Not that the Swiss are enterprising people, it is my reading of the picture that is imaginative!
Surfers from Europe
Santander, Biarriz, Hossegor
Wolf Hippies Portraits
This photo album is the result of my shots during my return trip from my life in Cantabria. After Australia I wanted to learn Spanish and I went to work for a surf camp on the Cantabrian coast, it was my first long period in Spain, in the end I didn’t learn Spanish in this situation because I was surrounded by people from all over the world. world, German, Dutch, Italian, Swiss and so on. I remember continuing to speak mostly English. On this particular occasion we had all dressed up as hippies for a beach party, ours was a disguise but the reality we lived was exactly this kind of vibe, surf, vans, fun and moment on the beach to spend together.
The Tree House
I love trees. They are like us. Roots on the ground and head towards the sky.
L’Hippie House (pag.69)
-I lati della porta un pò sgranocchiati dal tempo e dai topi, lasciavano passare della luce, era stato quello a farmi realizzare di aver trovato la porta d’ingresso. Un mucchio di fili collegati a una grossa televisione, cartoni della pizza sparsi qua e la, bottiglie di birra, una colonna di legno centrale sorreggeva il tetto spiovente abbastanza provato, i colori jipsi riempivano i miei occhiovunque mi girassi.
Avevamo attraversato di nuovo la sala centrale passando per una cucina dalle pareti completamente fucsia e cadenti, mancavano pezzi di muro ovunque e ogni parte di quello rimanente era completamente scrostrato, il lavandino stracolmo, un forno e dei fonelli su cui bivaccavano alcune padelle altamente cancerogene, e un ripiano di legno ad angolo nascosto da buste di pane in cassetta, barattoli di pomodoro, barattoli di fagioli lasciati aperti e costellazioni di briciole.
Markus sembrava quasi imbarazzato una volta arrivati davanti alla porta del bagno, mi guardava intimorito aprendo piano la porta blu cigolante, regalandomi uno sguardo di incoraggiamento sembrava quasi fosse stata colpa sua quel deserto di ragnatele per aria.
“Convivete con molti ragni?” “Si”
“Avete pipistrelli in giardino?”
Mi sarei trasferita li, l’atmosfera romantica di quella casa non mi dispiaceva dopotutto.