The flavour of a city is not only made up of buildings, more or less famous monuments, squares and streets: it is a truism to state that it is also made up of the images of the people who inhabit it, visit it, walk through it for the most varied reasons.
But is this flavour, this scent an objective fact? I think it is more in the eyes and head of those who want to describe it.
Each of the figures in this work, portrayed in the streets of the City, is a visitor from another world, his own and only known to him, who gives the photographer with his appearance only the opportunity to invent a story, an atmosphere, an impression of the City.
Because each of these stories is not his own, which we are not allowed to know, but the one that the photographer sews on him from a few visible elements; a posture, an attitude, the position in the frame rather than the juxtaposition of different aspects are from time to time the elements of a personal and arbitrary tale about the atmospheres and the slight strangeness that one breathes in the City.
La bella citazione di Schubert, il Vescovo con paramenti sacri che attraversa la strada indifferente – lui e chi gli passa accanto – infine l’uomo che a novembre, di notte, va cercando libri su una bancarella
con tanto di cappello di Panama in testa: sembra di stare a NY, tutti indiani metropolitani!
Grazie Lucilla, profumo della mia personalissima e un po’ strampalata Roma.