Two years ago, I found in the street of a city in Italy some photographic albums: they were thrown on the sidewalk and they seemed to have been exposed to the rain for a long time because most of the pictures were damaged while others were almost completely faded away. Other pages however preserved images depicting members of an Italian family during their daily life, social events and personal moments.
Instinctively I took the albums with me and for a long period I’ve asked myself why.
I understood I feared these people could fade away and be forgotten.
I understood that this fear belonged to me as person and as a photographer.
Italian Dialogues highlights an unusual aspect of photography: its fragility as a support for human memory. Photography reduces reality into fragments and, without any connection to their original context, pictures are just giving back pure pieces of information.
I’ve considered these images as a metaphor, as raw material to track down memories, personal histories, and to reconstruct real or imaginary stories. Some pictures turn pigments and colours and suggest the idea of an infinite cosmos suggested by the philosopher Giordano Bruno in his book Dialoghi Italiani.