This past summer I ventured to Europe in hopes of rekindling my relationship with photography and, yes, in hopes of finding myself. It was a pilgrimage of glass and soul. It was a journey through the twist and shout (an exclamation of joy after seeing the picture you “captured”) of the lens.
This first series will be featuring Rome! And this first post, the streets of said city. I committed to a prime, fairly wide angle and went out to document the authentic, dark grit that is Roma. It was basically a lot of scooters everywhere.
It should be obvious by now, but I’m someone who demands originality from myself through my sensor (or film). I guess, if I really thought hard about it, I’d have realized that I’m not the first person to photograph Rome, but I hadn’t really thought that hard about it, so you can imagine what a slap in the face this guy was.
You can find streets that don’t have
scooters on them, but judging by the graffiti (Italian word for renegade painting) this was a bad area, so I got the hell out of there!
When I poured over these photos – culling the rejects, crying happy tears over the successes and memories – I came upon the following image. I could have sworn this image came out of a recurring dream that I had after returning from my trip. The scooter infestation, the flower pots strangely places, the ivy taking over the house at the end of the street and, hopefully, soon the whole concrete city. But what makes the dream so vivid and memorable is that every woman was facing or walking away from me. There I am, every time, shouting for the women to turn to me, but they won’t, as the men saunter by.
And that’s Rome – street level.