“Every photo I take is part of me, bearing testimony to who I am. As I always say, all you can discover in the world is what you have inside.”
These are words of Franco Fontana, they represent what I love to do: looking for something mine in the landscape.
For months I have been in lock down, as everybody else, stuck in the middle between contagion fear and quarantine impotence. The lockdown meant for me, primarily, the interruption of any work. But the major consequence of the quarantine was instead a deep confrontation with my regrets, my laziness, my limits and some of my unresolved knots. My quarantine has been above all this, a face-to-face meeting with the excuses and the mental shortcuts that I use to avoid the most uncomfortable questions, to leave blind certain corners of me. Lost trains, opportunities thrown away, relationships polluted with superficiality. And then, I thought, what I said about Fontana's words was not entirely sincere. Searching inside you while looking at the world is only successful for those pieces that you really want to find, pieces whose existence you want to admit. I do not know where I am in this admission but I did what I could, I sought myself into my small apartment, I looked for some parts of me, those I really would like to non-exist, in places and landscape that I had to invent, or that maybe were always been there.
