I’ve always thought that my New York experience would be somehow exciting, and yet, for the first time, I am completely alone..
I’ve visited many times before settling, and always had the impression of a stimulating city, due to its size, multiethnicity and constant freshness.
The year that just passed by, however, has revealed a new aspect of the city, growing in me quietly, true the lens of my camera; a melancholic vein has represented the pictures, a different sense of solitude has developed the images, in a complete unconscious way for me.
I intuited, and hope transpires, that we are not lonely for real, we are part of a bigger picture in which we are somehow connected, true someone’s shadow that touches me, or to our past in a page of an antiquated glory that rests on a dirty road waiting to be forgotten forever.
This ”Full Emptiness” is felt but never manifests. It prefers the impression to the action itself and to the naked matter.
More generally I truly thought to be able to grasp the beauty (which is nothing if not the need of beauty, something that we can never truly reach) in what we think are ordinary situations, when we feel abandoned and nobody cares. These are shots that reveal my desperate search to give the right stage to human feelings.
I’m happy to be in this world, but sometimes, it feels bigger than me; sometimes you get the impression that you can contain it all in a breath, in an encounter, in a Loving encounter. Some other times, like now, I have the sensation that it escapes me - I am a tiny insignificant part.
Then the lens and the road intervene, the people, their faces, their personalities and voices, all that in some way fills this emptiness, the sense of our passage on earth, another way of communicating.
In conclusion, you try to do art.
New York 12/28/2020