issue #08: starring objects
1. What a photographer takes with his/her shots is a mental journey… towards a place, a person or an object. Do you remember a particular object, or a series of objects, that you decided to photograph? What is the memory attached to this shot? If you were to give this shot a title, what would it be?
Among many, I would like to mention the workshop of a ceramist in South Korea that I photographed in 2010. One very early morning, we entered the workshop together. The light kissed a large plastic sheet covering the unfired forms and a banal green plastic spray was lit up so gracefully that it became “magical”. I set up my tripod, prepared my Rolleiflex and shot. The master then took the spray to use it: the following shot lost the poetry of such a banal object, which photography makes special. The title I would give this shot is: Early Morning Magic in the Shop of Park Boo Won (Do Won Yo), Gwangju, Gyeonggido, South Korea. My work is closely related to objects and tells of environments that are somehow inhabited by the soul of the person who created and uses them. I have always loved to capture life in the stillness of a place. What I am looking for is a portrait and not a cold and distant representation.
On the Block#1, Harlem NYC 2007 | Ph. Susanna Pozzoli
2. Let’s think about a trip you take in your heart, and imagine that you have to send a postcard showcasing an object (rather than a typical landscape). What journey would that be? What object would be printed on the postcard? Why is that the object?
I have been living in Paris, and abroad for several years. Because of Covid, for over a year I was unable to return to Valchiavenna (Lombardy), where I was born and grew up. Returning to those places, after the period of detachment and tension that this historical moment brought, was a strong emotion, unique. I returned to Chiavenna with the desire to find my loved ones and I rediscovered the places of my childhood with a new outlook. My journey led me to rediscover my grandfather’s house in Campodolcino, the place where my mother was born and where I spent all my summers. The house, simple and spartan, is still old-fashioned, has a large external railing and in the basement is my grandfather’s workshop: blacksmith, repairman, plumber and welder. His dusty shoes made me feel like a child again. At the entrance, in the hallway, a belt and grandma’s straw hat reminded me of August mornings in the garden full of raspberries ready to be picked…
3. Who would you send it to? What message would you write?
I would send it to Aldo, my brother who lives in Canada and hasn’t been back to Italy for two years: “Dear Aldo, this long, complicated, sad and tiring period brings with it only one certainty. When you return you will find the mountains more beautiful and imposing than ever, you will be moved as you walk through the streets of the country and every little thing will have a rich, unique and magnificent flavour. Hang in there, imagining the pleasure of the hugs that await you and the wonderful taste of everything you will rediscover. Susanna”