Italy Redux – i Bianconeri
I would make a terrible photo editor. “Yes, I know you sent me these almost two weeks ago but I still haven’t decided what I like. Maybe tomorrow.”
As a photographer, life is good any time you’re someplace different, someplace new. Italy brings it to a whole new level. It’s like being someplace different, someplace new and someplace with Tagliatelle! Three years ago my family took a trip over to visit my little brother, who was just finishing his “studies” in Florence and putting down two or three pizzas a day. I want pizza.
Armed with my trusty Canon point-and-shoot, I walked through the piazzas, past the palazzos, over the ponti and stopped at pizza places. I realized how much I loved taking pictures, and it was something I wanted to do well. Some people feel that way about jogging or personal finances. Yeah, no. I caught the photo bug. There’s just something badass about seeing something, then having it documented, remembered, even relived. I had no visions of grandeur, no desire to be better than Bresson or Smith or Koudelka or Salgado, didn’t even know who they were. But those Italian people with their perfect little side streets made me want to take better pictures. A few weeks ago I was right back in the same place that I started out.
I’ve been fighting with these photos for days. “Do I post a photo essay on the Market? Should I make one about the water taxi’s in Venice? Gondola’s are cliché. Bicylcles. What about when the Pope speaks? Maybe I should just separate it by family and not family. Meatsauce. Things that I like and then things that everyone else might like. Penne all’arrabbiata! I loved this photo yesterday, why do I want to slay it with a thousand swords today?” Typical.
So I’m going to shut up now and show you some photos because I’m not Bresson or Salgado. To the place that made me want to be a photographer…good to see you again. Color’s up next, but for now: Italy Redux – the Black and Whites.