Following an accident occurred to my mother, I come back to live in my hometown, a small village North of Naples, Southern Italy, from which I escaped when young. The decline of this part of the country is so bad, and living conditions have deteriorated so far, that religion represents the only way to bear the burden.
Aware that the situation won’t improve, people are waiting for a miracle. Religious icons are everywhere, in the streets, in the houses, at the hospital. There too, its conditions are such that everything is entrusted to miracles and not to doctors.
I wait for her recovery but I see my mother’s condition worsening until she enters into a coma, and I can’t get any credible information from doctors about her situation. My waiting comes soon to a standstill. My life is suspended throughout the long hours spent in the hospital and in my mother’s empty flat, without any expectation regarding her recovery.
I find her incredible collection of pictures: from the intense black and white shots printed on fibre paper when she was young during the war, to the less deep black and white analogues printed on industrial resin paper belonging to the ‘60s and the ‘70s, until early colours pictures of the ‘80s. Some deteriorated, some other badly framed, all of them look wonderful with the help of memory. Waiting for her death, I have the opportunity to investigate her life when young and remember moments of my relationship with her. I imagine that those snapshots represent her memories during the coma.
Over a year with my mother I recorded in my images the hospital where I spent endless days, her empty flat, religious icons spreading everywhere, moments with her after the temporary recovery, and, lastly, her death. Dealing with archive pictures I discover the role of photography in evoking memory.