originally published in enquire mag, in italian. here, my original answers for my english-speaking compadres.
1) If you’ve to describe your photography with three words, which would them be?
shards of motifs
2) What’s your first photo related memory?
I think something that really compelled me to take photos, especially in a journalistic manner, was seeing all my mom’s albums from her life in Hawaii and California.
I have always been one to obsessively record any moment or experience that holds some meaning for me. In the past I always did this through writing, either in a journalistic or creative manner. Photography is another strand of documentation, it’s more of an art form, and I think it opened up a lot of doors when I discovered how much it can enhance and preserve memories.
3) When did you start taking photo? Have you followed any course or even academy – or maybe practice makes perfect?
It wasn’t until a few summers ago, when my mom passed down to me her 35mm Minolta, that I seriously began to integrate the magic of picture-taking into my life.
I wish I had started sooner.
And yes, for the past two years I have been taking a photo class at my high school, which has been essential in teaching me how to work with film, and develop and manipulate it in the darkroom.
4) What’s your equipment? Analog or digital?
Mainly my 35mm minolta..but i have experimented with a variety of formats including polaroid and medium format. I’ve been using the 120 Yashica quite a bit lately. It has such an antique feel and I love the hands-on process of it.
I do use a Canon rebel t2i as well, primarily as a back-up in the rare event that my film is somehow destroyed or lost before I can develop it. I also use it for short films sometimes.
5) You often portrait youth. What do you love about it and who are your models?
I take photographs of youth mainly because I believe, at this point, it’s what I know how to capture best. I hope my work will grow when I grow.
The world says youth is immature, youth is naiive….I suppose that’s true, but this age is beautiful to me because we will never again be ourselves at this intensity- this is us, a thousand times more us than we will ever be.
I photograph friends, classmates, and neighborhood kids..anyone that really intrigues me in both looks and personality.
I should note though, that the people I always want to photograph more than anything are the most elusive and enigmatic, and thus the most difficult to approach. That’s why I still write.
6) What’s your world through the lens?
Sometimes it’s exactly what I am privelaged to witness around me, other times my photographic world consists of ephemeral situations and scenes that I create for myself.
I like to do shoots after I read some bit of literature or whatever we’re studying in english class, and portray the feminine characters in a contemporary light.
I suppose fragility, and vulnerability, are recurring themes in my work..almost without intention. I think in a way you are seeing my reflection, to some extent.
7) If you can choose one person, celebrity, diva oft he past, anyone else: who would you like to portrait?
Tolstoy or Biggy Smalls
8) What do you do when you’re not shooting?
publishing alorika mag, a project i’ve been working on since january 2011.
Just trying to enjoy my last few months spending time with friends before we all go our separate ways. It’s a really strange time for everyone right now I think, the seniors. And kids who are just starting college and figuring out what they want to do with themselves. Nobody knows.
9) What’s in your imaginary? Artist, directors, influences…
Too many to name..but I think you can see a connection in some way or another with these, my strongest influences:
- alphonse mucha & john william waterhouse ( favorite artists)
-hayao miyazaki..basically my entire childhood..
-magical realist poets like pablo neruda..i love mythology as well
Also,music is huge to me..
teebs, black moth, lots of 60s/70s rock too…songs and bands that call to mind plenty of poignant, abstract imagery.
10) Name some (young) photographers we should follow…
Michal Pudelka
Sharon Gong
Paulina Surys
Megan Tipps
all incredibly skilled, innovative and bad-ass
dialogue of the mundane, scene #2: united
girl and boy walking up a downtown street at night, camera on ankles/feet, gradually approach a group of young people smoking, drinking, talking at a cafe in the glow of the lamplight. there is a girl with dreads, girl with fake blonde hair and beauty mole, assortment of rugged looking guys, table cluttered with beers. one girl coos “well if it isn’t tom sawyer..” (obviously the boy’s pseudonym) as the two approach. there’s another table off to the side where a loner named Truman sits, a blank stare on his face, sleeves rolled up on his button-up linen beach shirt (a dark tan), scruffy but not much of a beard, sitting by himself. tom and the girl take a seat at his table to accompany him.
TOM: “what’s up truman?”
TRUMAN: “nothing. i’m sick of listening to them. how can i listen to them when i have no idea what they’re talking about.”
TOM: “what are they talking about?”
TRUMAN: “i don’t have a youtube, i don’t look up the latest music video or some MTV pop sensation every day so i can’t be part of their conversation…I don’t have a facebook so no I didn’t see that status update…what is a foster of the people?”
TOM: “you mean Foster the people?”
TRUMAN: “yeah. well i don’t even care-“
TOM: “it’s a band..you’ve heard that catchy song..pumped up kicks..”
TRUMAN: “oh yeah. you see, i hate that shit! why would i want to sit there and talk about it? i hate talking..i have social anxiety..i avoid groups because i hate talking so much..and i keep staring at my bike..”-flails an arm at his bicycle leaning against a lamppost across the street.-“you see my bike? well i keep looking at it. situations like these make me want to get up and just ride away..” fidgets with a half drunken bottle of beer and looks down.
girl looks at tom and grabs his arm softly in an excited realization
GIRL: “do you know what? you all remind me of a group of modern day expatriates..and he’s a code hero.” looks and smiles at truman.
Truman glares at her, apparently uncomfortable with this mysterious label. cut to black because i have no way of finishing this.
dialogue of the mundane, scene #1: arby’s
Curtis and his flowerchild girlfriend, Kate, step noisily into taxi one afternoon. Taxi driver is a simple anonymous man.
KATE: “We’re goin to arby’s.”
CURTIS: “hey, look, I got a real fancy card now,” waves around his black visa at driver, Kate rolls her eyes in the seat next to him.
KATE: “it’s not fancy….it’s black..the lowest kind there is” grumbles
CURTIS: “yeah it is is- hey what’s that color they give to the most important people..the millionaires and those kinds?”
DRIVER: “platinum? I think it’s platinum.”
CURTIS: “nah nah it’s somethin else…the more money you make the nicer your card..-hey it’s this turn!” -waves at driver to turn- “hey you know they got actual credit cards now instead of food stamps?”
DRIVER: “yeah i know.”
CURTIS: “yeah it’s too humiliating to use paper stamps now so they give you a real credit card! wanna know what they call it?”
DRIVER: “what?”
CURTIS: “your African Express card! You know who told me that? Jeffrey! black Jeffrey..you know him!”
Taxi pulls into Arby’s, couple get out hurriedly and Kate foots the cost of taxi, throwing a few dollars from the black satchel she’s been clutching, one hand on grey beret to prevent it from blowing off in the wind. Camera stays inside at same angle from back of taxi and door closes, moment of silence with taxi driver before cut to next scene. Next scene is at an arby’s booth, where Curtis and Kate stumble into next. they sit on the same side of the bar, together.
CURTIS: “I remember when there used to be smoke sections in these places..and then who fucked it up? the government!” begins to unwrap food
KATE: “yeah…because it was a health concern and a customer disturbance.”
puts down tray of food, they begin to unwrap and eat while talking.
CURTIS: “health concern” scoffs, makes quotes with two fingers mockingly. “there used to be more freedom back in the day..more luxuries! now there are RUUUULESS….”
KATE: “you need some rules babe.”
CURTIS: “i have no rules! only morals!” takes a bite out of burger, continues rambling. “and every arby’s had a fixin’s bar…and you got to make tacos and shit…” his tone changes from ranting to deeply pensive “i think there’s still one left and it’s around here! well..not here…somewhere..”
two jailbirds (Jack and Ruby) walk up to their bar, one guy and one girl, terrible skin, tons of tattoos, man looks like naked mole rat, girl has bruises and cuts all over arms and purple eyeshadow. everyone exchanges warm hellos. guy sits down next to kate, making a row of three, and girl sits by herself on opposite seat of bar. they’ve obviously been expecting them for something.
CURTIS: “you want some food? here you go, look, her hair’s like the curly fries!” holds up fry next to Kate’s hair.
KATE: “yeah, i’m done straightening it, it’s a mess when i do..”
RUBY: “what about his hair?” points to curtis jokingly
KATE: “he won’t let me touch it!” reaches to touch curtis’ natty, unbrushed hair, he jerks away like a child.
CURTIS: “it’s my hair, i like it unbrushed, see what you do to me? look at this Ruby” throws a leg up on the table “she has me in skinny jeans now!”
KATE: “you picked those out yourself! so get your story straight.” nudges him into the glass window
CURTIS: blushes, “yeah well they look like you painted them on me.. yeah..so..how ya been jack? what are you doing today?”
JACK: “nothin i gotta get back to work as soon as i get what i came here for..”
RUBY: interrupts “i need a smoke break!” turns to kate suddenly as she notices she’s counting out a small stack of ones with a sullen expression “what’s wrong kate?”
KATE: “i’m so so..in debt..college..”
RUBY: “college..such a waste of time.”
CURTIS: “money drainer..all it is..but soon you’ll be makin money kate!” ruffles her curls.
RUBY: “you know my niece has such a high IQ, went to school for almost four years..then she drops out and has a kid right before she graduates! what was the point? i mean really..what was the point of all that? of all that knowledge, of all that learning..”
JACK: “all that bullshit! i learned more about life not goin’ to school, the streets taught me everything i need to know! and now look at me!”
CURTIS: “if it doesn’t relate to daily life, i don’t wanna learn it!”
RUBY: “yeah, such a shame! such a waste!”
there is an uncomfortable laughter followed by an uncomfortable silence as everyone sort of realizes life is pretty shitty for all of them
CURTIS: “you done eating? let’s go have that cig.”
they all stumble out of booth and camera stays still, eye on garbage/leftover food. cuts to black
trashbag santa
there is a jolly old homeless man i see everywhere i turn lately..there will be days when i run into him at 3 vastly different parts of town, from the shell station at the start of my day on my morning commute to school, to a side street stopped at a red light, to a shady park bench at 6 pm cajoling with a trio of other homeless men..his cheeks always rosy like a santa and his hair blonde and poofy like a clowns, bald in the middle..a black shirt soaked in sweat by the end of the day as he peddles around on his trusty bicycle, two garbage bags brimming with finds.. two bursting black balloons filled with aluminum cans and other treasures. the loot is always changing; one day the bags will be filled with cheery red coca cola cans, the next day teeming with amber beer bottles.i want to talk to him and ask him a few questions. i want to make a documentary or a book about vagrants.
hillary’s house
it is one square room, small and dense with smoke. upon a beige ottoman he sits, like a meditating dandlefly perched atop a lotus flower, palms upturned and rested on his knees in a style reminiscient of a monk’s. his head is shaved like one as well, and his tan complexion and highly arched brows create the illusion of an amiable spirit. there is a baby girl toddling around in a white dress, fumbling with a lighter she has picked up from the carpet as a chillum is being passed around. beside the ottoman lie stacks of worn hardcover books rotting with age; the one on the top of the pile happens to be called “how to raise your child.” there is a rooster he puts in the bathroom at night so no one will hear it crow in the dawn. but i’ve never seen it.
new york, april sightings
i saw an old british lady with a large tattoo of a boy’s face peeking out from the back of her shirt…she was getting into a taxi and although she was old and fat i could tell she was probably some sort of very attractive punk back in her time. i could write for days about the oddities i observed…the crazy dancing old men jumping out of their skin in a seizure-like fashion to the beat of the occupy drums..looked like something harmony korine would be enamored by. there was also an arabic photographer in a white suit who approached me on a subway, his tall, willowy figure hunched over, arms gripped around the handrail like a beanstalk, eager to show me his portfolio of glitzy model tests. and i did finally go to the moma for the first time. i saw starry night and a painting by klimt and pollock and jasper johns..how inspiring it was to see a little girl pointing out what she likes about starry night to her mother who is choking down tears.
gretatu asked: whoah, so glad i found your blog :-))))
yay!! your photography is very impressive by the way