I have never seen anything alike. Everything is pulsating and pulsating again.
The advertising signs in front of the hotel are flooding the room and the bed with a red light. The colourful ideograms are flickering on and off slowly; everywhere I turn the night is enveloping me.
What if photography was limited by what I experience and feel? What if it had a limit that I am starting to experiment just now? I would like to use video, video-cameras, create stories, I would like to give music to everything I see. I would like to share everything. Pictures are just a little thing, just a small part.
These are the first words that transform my years of Japanese life in memories, that change the pictures in a stratifications of symbols and senses with a “before” and an “after”.
The whole essence of my work in Japan and specifically in Tokyo, from 2004 until 2012, has been built around the interconnection of two phenomena: the search for a formal sign in the rapid flowing of contemporary gestures and the quest of an old awareness inside the chaos of the city. The search for a gesture has been the foundation and direction of my work, the oneiric dimension in which Tokyo lives and vibrates, even if it still is incredibly material. Tokyo is, perhaps, up until now the only other world inside the known world.
10th of December. Monday.
The underground is taking me to the tallest skyscraper of the world, the Taipei 101. I am on an assignment for a new magazine for IlSole24Ore. My life is photography! I am still amazed by it. The sun is warm and I thought this meeting at noon was going to mess up my schedule; the Leica is hanging from my neck, walking fast towards the underground. Read more
Is it called love, the place where I have been? Yellow curtains tear the light and a bit of my soul flies away.
I have always thought that talking about photography was not going to be a topic of great interest for those around me. Maybe being worried about the different degree of importance that photography has in my life, compared to that of those who work directly with images and pictures, I have talked more often about photographic techniques and sometimes of photographers. I have always preferred to look at pictures and images, searching for inspiration and looking for a comparison in books and book shops, but only so often I actually ended up talking about what Photography means to me. Read more
I have put wings on my eyes to not lose the vortex of the instants, the throb of the ideograms, the vertigo of the boats. As you know, it’s here that I start thinking about my first movie. Images are slipping from that enormous mouth and from the walls of Wan Chai to the rooms of a small hotel filled with bodies and sweat.
The first night I got there, way before knowing you, I walked from Causeway Bay in the East District until the Central District.
It’s going like a wave,
Like a molecule that spins,
Like my love,
Like the weather when it’s bad.
Some weeks ago I have been asked to teach a class in Italy coming back from Beirut. I would have been free to select paths and topics to discuss and I was actually already thinking to talk about Narrative Photography and how it represents the inexhaustible fuel for the love that photography requires. I thought it was a great topic to divert the attention from the obsession for the technique that often powers the curiosity of amateurs. Then, I was walking in Beirut and I started thinking about time: the time for projects and the time for experiences. Read more
Today I really don’t give a shit. It’s 6am and looks like midnight. I should succeed in turning time into a spiritual exercise.
I listen to it and it wins me over.
The picture of the carousel in Manara, of its moving and shedding light on the plants and flowers around, made me think about some small nocturnal projects of 24 hours about Beirut.
Small or big hallucinations of tiredness or drunkenness… I could make this a series: 24/1 Beirut. 24/2 Beirut. 24/3 Beirut…
The wind is blowing strongly on the Corniche promenade; I look at Beirut from the sea, taking a breath after the weeks that I have spent voraciously in her belly.
I had seen Beirut in 1999 when I was 25 year old: it was hard and though, but now it is a full-on city, even in its gigantic contradictions. I have been in this café for the first time with Lina. The wind of the Mediterranean and the perfumes of the young girls blend together and talk about this new Middle-East that I had not visited in years. The loud families are waiting for the hotter hours to pass by in order take possession of the black and grey rocks, on top of which they settle down almost like they knew all the shapes, crevices and flowing of the reef. Read more
With the Leica m8 I can only make pictures in a reportage style, closed in a cut towards the ground. I will need to find another way of “playing” with Guiyang. I am using the Leica like a snapshot camera. From the 12th of May I will start again to work with the 6x7 and the 6x12.
P.S. I have to go to the park to take a picture of the camel.
To spend a whole day focusing on acceptance, on putting myself in the position of assimilate better.
12th of November.
In front of the second soup, I let myself go, slowly. My feet hurt for all the walking; my body is talking to me, teaching me. The Leica does not stop following me even if it is paying a hard price: I let her fall for the first time today.
19th of November
I woke up inside a warm dream made of ties, of children, of Chinese ideograms and light that touches things. The mind goes to when I will read this note, a thousand universes are merging inside me and maybe I have never been so happy.
Would I be wrong if, saying that I understand, you would lose your flavour? Today is born, dies, is reborn and dies again every second.
Oh dearly beloved Photography. I feel that you are mine,
I will always bring you with me.