As an author, director and photographer, I define myself as perpetually looking for “walking images,” for all those elements that do not capture our gaze immediately, making us lose ourselves in those stories that always deserve to be told.
I majored in film at Iulm University in Milan, and during my college years, I developed a growing passion for photography. I had Giovanni Chiaramonte as my professor, and I still cherish the memories of his wonderful lectures.
What my course taught me was to always listen to my surroundings, and that every story deserves to be told. Not only do I take inspiration from the late great Giovanni Chiaramonte, but also from observing my surroundings and from reading the works of Walter Benjamin’s “Images of Cities” and “Walking with the Wind” by Abbas Kiarostami.
I was born in Fontaneto d’Agogna, a town of about 3,000 inhabitants, and I spent most of my life there until I went to university. While the village makes you feel much more isolated, it also leads you to confront more with another form of imagination, to create another reality for yourself. This is the feeling I also experienced when I visited Procida.
Not far from Naples, about an hour’s ferry ride away, Procida is a place where the rays of the sun rest gently on the sea, mirrored in that lapis lazuli colour that embraces the architecture which is perpetually jealous of its own identity.
There are Medieval villages, and fishermen and the scents of freshly caught fish, which offer themselves to my eyes, while floating dreams scented with salty wind are released among rainbow houses, unable to chart a course and fix a landing.
This is how Procida looks when the island is not taken by a storm of mass tourism and commuting Neapolitans. It was September and I had spent a few days in Naples on vacation, and a friend of mine recommended that it would be the perfect time to visit Procida.
Despite the large number of people on the ferry from Naples, the island was less crowded than it would have been during summer months; this allowed me to fully enjoy the beauty of the landscape, and to capture it to the fullest thanks to my camera.
For me, Procida is one of those places where it does not take much effort to imagine a photographic transposition: the landscape offers itself to the photographer’s eyes, providing them with numerous possibilities for transposing their gaze.
With thanks to the talented Elisa Cherchi.
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