La soglia di casa

When I started experimenting with the camera, the size of the house I lived in became the dimension in which to look for boundaries between what I was in the past and what I would become. Each object magically became a way to experience focus, light and shadow, depth and meaning. In this difficult year I found myself living, after ten years, in the same house of my parents. And without realizing it, I started photographing with the same renewed interest the same thresholds that I thought I had left intact. The result was a story in which I found the minimal gesture of my parents, older but more attentive. I found the slowness, the essential. And those west lights from the blinds, which always lit soft fires in the rooms, became transparencies between inside and outside, between what I can see and what I need to see, between what I can think and what this house now holds for itself, as if my parents were its eternal guardians.