The photography was in my house when I arrived. Photography made room form me between my father’s cameras, Enzo Settembre, during those ’70s years in which I was on the floor and all his lenses were all looking at me.
And after being the world’s most photographed child I thought it was necessary to give something back to this world, even if only the attempt to leave some shots that, telling of me, were telling about him. But whom?
There are seasons in photography as in life. I would submit only the first. At the same time I feel that I am about to present the second.
Writing with light, and how we would translate “manipulate light”?
The season highlighted is the Roman, made shots and long lead times in the digital darkroom, manipulating the light that slips through the winding streets of the Eternal City.
I always had the feeling that there is light nestled in the corners of Rome, a light that is stuck in the beauty of the angles of this monument to human presence in the art, to his visit. The man has gone through thousands of years of youth to come to Rome to give us, photography is the only pen that could ever describe it, because Rome is moments motionless in a long flowing swirling towards the end of things.