Showdown

Showdown

I believe there is an ELO song for every possible situation in life… I have realised this during a long, lonely summer a few years ago, listening almost exclusively to Electric Light Orchestra. Walking around in Athens a few days before the referendum of the 5th of July and taking photos of the beautiful Silver Gold, this ELO song was playing incessantly in my mind. Indeed… and what a showdown it would be… Living in interesting times was never easy. 

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Body double

Body double

Remember the 1984 Brian de Palma movie? I love that movie… I love the plot, I love the characters, I love the end -and I love the actors… Especially the divine Deborah Shelton who plays the beautiful Gloria. She gets murdered of course but  her distant and haunting presence until that moment is what makes this film most memorable to me… So, when I met this girl on a sailing trip, I had no other choice but to take some shots… She reminded me of the feminine, elegant, classy, but very unlucky Gloria who just wanted to be happy and loved but, unfortunately, it wasn't in the cards for her… 

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What ever happened to Eleonora Krane?

What ever happened to Eleonora Krane?

This is a question unanswered. And it will remain that way, if I have anything to say about it.  I was asked to follow and photograph her… I didn't ask why, this was just one of these cases… You know what I mean… the money was so good, there was no time for questions… And also, because I thought it would spoil my fun to know about it beforehand. It would be very easy to say that she was just a mad woman visiting again and again an abandoned hospital in Venice. It sure would be an easy assumption. But as I was watching her, day after day, I felt drawn to her, to her energy and personality. Being crazy was just too easy, too simple… In my mind she was an alien actor, a person from another world, stranded here, for unknown reasons. The only way to connect to her home was to perform again and a again a mysterious ritual - the movements and their significance where known only to her. I saw her move silently, harmonically, smoothly, gracefully in her mysterious, strange "dance", in a surreal but mesmerising choreography. And I stopped thinking. I stopped  wondering, as well. All I did was hope, wholeheartedly, that she'd get back home, soon. 

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People become art

People become art

There is Art -and then there are the people who love it, the people who share it, the people who joyfully dwell and living in it. Being in the Biennale of Venice, you feel overwhelmed by the works of art, their beauty & colours, but also by it's harmonic coexistence with the people who circulate around it. People become art. 

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Playing tennis in Central Park

Playing tennis in Central Park

That was "Il Mister's" dream… They called him "il Mister" because you could see him walking around in misty Venice, with Aloha, his faithful dog and a camera (sometimes, also, a gigantic tripod)… His friend, Andreas F., -another enigmatic and legendary figure of Venice- gave him that name, but nobody remembers why. Except me, of course. The truth is that nobody knew what "il Mister" was doing in Venice either. He and his friends, a group of men and women that met regularly in a mysterious place they called "Azerbaijan", were shrouded by mystery. Were they spies? Were they photographers? Were they secret guardians of the galactic balance? My mission was to find out… And I did. But you will not. Not from me, anyway... In my job, secrecy and discretion are essential for survival. All I can say is that I followed him all the way to Central Park. I went to see him play tennis. I didn't though. All he did was smoke. Well, smoking in Central Park is not all that bad, I thought… 

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Who framed Andreas F.?

Who framed Andreas F.?

Andreas F. knew how to frame people… He was really good at it… Andreas F. was a legend. Venice was his playground and a digital Nikon his weapon of choice. Sometimes someone would hire him to frame someone with an analogic camera,  especially if they wanted the framing to be slow and painful… He was presice and methodical, he never left loose ends. If you wanted the job to be done, you'd hire Andreas F.  Women adored him, men were intimidated by him. Of course, Andreas F. was not cheap... He wouldn't get out of bed for less than half a million dollars... Andreas F. worth every penny of it. The framing was clean, smooth, silent. All that was left when he was finished was the smoke of his cigarette… Marlboro, they said… But who really knew what brand of cigarettes Andreas F. smoked? It was the 31st of May… It was my birthday… I had no money, no job, no hope for the future. Venice was hot, humid and dangerously seductive… An old connection of mine I happened to meet for a spritz the day before, had told me a rich Venetian  woman was willing to give 2 million euros to anyone who would frame Andreas F. I could ask for the reasons, but I didn't have to… I said I would do it. I needed the money, I had nothing to loose and I really wanted to know what brand of cigarettes Andreas F. smoked… Even if it was the last thing I saw… It wasn't difficult to track him… I wasn't new to the job… I won't bother you with the details… The framing worked. All I had to do was to hand over the card and collect the money. But life wouldn't just be so sweet for me… As I looked away from the vaporetto that would take me to Punta Sabbioni, I saw him framing me. I didn't feel a thing. He really was smooth. He really was merciful. I throw the card in the Canal Grande. I sat down. As I started to feel the effects of the framing, the san Marco square was already a blur. It was pointless to hold on to reality. As Venice was fading away, I saw the headline in tomorrow's papers: "Who framed Andreas F.?"… My eyes were closed. All I could see was cigarette smoke. Good bye Venice… 

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Farewell, my lovely

Farewell, my lovely

I needed a drink, I needed a lot of life insurance, I needed a vacation, I needed a home in the country. What I had was a coat, a hat and a gun. I put them on and went out of the room.” This is my all time favourite line from Raymond Chandler's "Farewell, My Lovely". It was stuck with me while I was looking Helen's shots. Who knows how subconscious works? So, quoting him seemed like a good idea…

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Multiple sunglasses are needed

Multiple sunglasses are needed

It was a particularly hot and bright day. A big sun spot has caused a huge coronal mass ejection and everything in the city was going crazy… If you were lucky enough that your cell phone didn't explode, there were many chances that a private message you had the inspiration to send on Facebook would go public on Twitter… Crazy staff like that happened all the time but Irene was used to it… All she cared about that morning was how fast she could reach the coffee shop. She looked out the window and saw all she needed to know… The big red alert sign said: "Multiple sunglasses are needed". 

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Those moments in between

Those moments in between

In between jobs, in between relationships, in between tasks, in between decisions, in between flights, in between training, in between meals, in between drinks, in between thoughts… All this time-space in between… Moments discarded, neglected, uncared-for, untended, forgotten. Yet always there, like a bonding material. 

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Lonely day in Beach Noir

Lonely day in Beach Noir

Having spend endless amazingly lazy summer days reading noir and mystery novels on the beach, I thought the beach should itself be noir, for a change…Thankfully, the few people that were around me that day, didn't notice… And like so many noir novels, that day started softly, warm and breezy and ended tempestuously, abruptly and lonely… 

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