Il Bacio is a short film, but also a photo story. Yes, a photo novel.
When Interni Magazine asked me to photograph some seating for the April issue, I wondered how all this could translate into something more than the simple formal exercise of constructing an imaginary, framing, lighting and giving visual dignity to those objects.
I remembered my aunt who, when I was a child, every she kept an eye on me and it happened that, to keep an eye on me, she dragged me wherever she had to go.
She came back to my mind under the helmet, at the hairdresser, in the early 80s in the province of Naples, who read the photo novels </ strong> Launch. My aunt was a rigid woman but under the helmet, she became vulnerable, smiling, almost aware of having a body, </ strong> an identity, a possibility of being something else.
In short, that memory forced me to write, obviously bringing my themes into that narrative form, and after writing I wanted with all my strength to produce the same story in a cinematic key.
I cannot anticipate the story here, if you see the short, or read the photo story, you will understand that if I did I would have taken away the joy of understanding where those words, the movements, the light are going. But certainly a reflection on what the objects with which we choose to live mean, on the other hand, seems relevant to me. (continues below)
We are used, I mean we who produce images around design, to imagine seats, light, mirrors, bookcases, as things available to men and, therefore, to magnify their shape, material, use. But there is a more sensitive level in which I like to think that objects can be lowered and that is our stories because whether designers, companies, scholars of form, objects are basically witnesses of our existence.
Read also: The houses that we are (and that are not we are more)
The books we read, the conversations, the music that inhabits our air, the feet, the armpits, the butt, everything, everything about us interacts with them, leaving a trace of our feeling , of our pain, of our grace.
Of course, we buy and bring home objects because we like their shape, the material they are made of, the function they perform, but we begin to love them when they begin to bear witness to our daily lives, witnesses to the fact that we really exist. Everyone as they can, everyone with the objects they choose. My aunt Diana, at about 80, when her hairdresser closed shop, she bought the helmet under which, as a young woman, she was happy. And she now she is happy every day.
Blue e Cristal (Tavolini)
— Bam Design