423. The Black is Never Absolute…
I’m not a photographer. Or maybe I am.
I like looking at the world through a lens. Through my camera I capture sensations, emotions and pleasures.
I’m not a writer. Photography is my way of telling stories, to commemorate moments important to me but of little significance to others. It’s my private world.
I draw an imperceptible line around myself to protect my feelings, my thoughts. Each image is the result of all of this. The images are uncoordinated, far from each other but they all belong to me, to my imagination. It is my personal work. Images that remain mine or that later turn into fabrics for my dresses.
Everything I like and everything interests me. Flowers, fruits, animals, skies, seas, meadows, women, children, skyscrapers, machines, candies, buttons. There is no limit. The most common object can revive old memories in me and become a source of inspiration for a collection or a mere detail of a dress.
Research interests me. Research open up new horizons, new frontiers. I have seen so many things, visited so many countries and met so many different peoples. I travelled a lot just to see different realities, mores, unknown costumes. But I have not only seen, I have also looked. I have fixed in my mind and then into the camera those moments, those things, those people.
I have watched a black sky and waited patiently for hours for a sun gate. The black is never absolute, there is always light behind.
I have watched dunes creeping along in a desert as the lights and warm wind was dragging it as gusts of sand. A intangibility effect that only the camera can capture.
I love poetry evoking objects and people, places and nature. It is poetry that I want to capture. The dream. In my world there is always a dream. I work on the reality to put it at the service of the dream.
I take pictures of detail, incomprehensible objects, panoramic landscapes focusing on one small detail.
The whole is not relevant to me. Everyone can see it. It is the most secret part, the less obvious, which attracts my attention.
A lighter is transformed into a gull’s wing, a wall of ivy in its autumn colours ranging from dark red to brown, shading off and moving the camera, becomes a wall of a thousand neon lights.
I’m not a photoshop person. I love working with the camera and inventing different ways to use it.
The technical error becomes for me an advantage. I overexpose and underexpose, I distort, I blur, I use the macro lens for distant images and I take extreme close up picture of a flower.
I double the exposure and overlap images with each other, generating hybrids with unexpected results. I magnify, I intensifying the colour tones, the whites and the blacks.
My camera is my game, it’s my way of giving voice to what I see and feel. It is my brush, my pen. It is how I sketch. I like to play with colours, with shades, with tints, with hues. It is how I write my poems. My images are my voice.
Two trees that intertwine with each other in an embrace tell a story of love. The infinite horizon tells of travel and transporting us away into unknown worlds. A lone red crab moves slowly on the black rock in search of food and finds unexpected adventures.
I live my photos when I am shooting and relive them, one by one, when I download them on my computer. I look at them carefully, analyse all the details so as to understand what I might initially have missed, what I should have done to make them more attractive, to convert them into wonderful dreams.
My photographic archive is like a diary where there are not days and dates but many photographs that bear witness to and write visually in image form the very years of my life, each year a myriad of telling moments.
My prints are always born from my photographs and from my prints my clothes are born.
I hid my emotions in my photo archive.
I LOVE YOU