Standing before you is Paolo di Paolo. At the ripe old age of 94, he was enjoying a peaceful life. But that all changed when he was faced with his former self, the photographer he locked up in a trunk half a century ago. These pages will take you back to post - Second World War Italy, from the journals of an elegant and humble photographer who survived those years through his passion for art, before ending his career prematurely.
INTERVIEW BY MERVE ARKUNLAR
It’s all in the past… That is what Paolo di Paolo believed when he gave up photography, 50 years ago. He put away his chronologically arranged archive, containing some 250,000 negatives, prints and slides, into a trunk destined for his basement. Paolo di Paolo was born in 1925, in Larino. His life changed when he came across a Leica III camera, in a shop window in Rome, four years after the end of World War II. Di Paolo did not have a clue about how to operate it, but its sheer beauty, as an object, was enough to fascinate him. He studied classical literature at high school, before obtaining a degree in History and Philosophy at the University of Rome. He had also developed an interest in painting, from the age of 16. Di Paolo followed the art scene that flourished in post-war Rome. He frequently met up with Gruppo Forma 1, a group founded by young Italian artists with a formalist and Marxist manifesto.
What is the meaning and importance of ‘Lost World’ to you?
‘Lost World’ aims to express a historical truth, to show that the period I worked as a photographer no longer exists. It was short and intense, which can only arouse nostalgia.
You documented a special period in Italy, right in the middle of recovery and extraordinary social changes. What was it like to witness all this, experience the creative hype with artists, actors and writers and different life stories as a profession?
Surviving the ‘special period of Italian history’ required a daily dose of virtual morphine. In the end, I found myself far from my world, without suffering - at least until the exhibition popped up. I have to admit that reliving so many moments of successful creativity through those pictures made me feel somewhat sad.
While certain things are visible in your images, some are vivid. Especially the feelings, the mental state of the people. How was it to be a storyteller and document post-war life?
You don’t step into the shoes of a storyteller having the intention of being one. You are a storyteller by instinct, particularly in photography. Telling a story in photography is immensely more difficult than telling a story in literature. The writer has the faculty of choosing the right moment, the suitable environment, even the climate, to write a chapter or even only a paragraph. The photographer who is about to “tell the story” of the moments of his period has only to trust the immediacy of his reactions to the stimuli that are created around him. Real situations don’t allow any replicas: epoch-making pictures are the result of unrepeatable magic moments.
Standing before you is Paolo di Paolo. At the ripe old age of 94, he was enjoying a peaceful life. But that all changed when he was faced with his former self, the photographer he locked up in a trunk half a century ago. These pages will take you back to post - Second World War Italy, from the journals of an elegant and humble photographer who survived those years through his passion for art, before ending his career prematurely.
INTERVIEW BY MERVE ARKUNLAR
It’s all in the past… That is what Paolo di Paolo believed when he gave up photography, 50 years ago. He put away his chronologically arranged archive, containing some 250,000 negatives, prints and slides, into a trunk destined for his basement. Paolo di Paolo was born in 1925, in Larino. His life changed when he came across a Leica III camera, in a shop window in Rome, four years after the end of World War II. Di Paolo did not have a clue about how to operate it, but its sheer beauty, as an object, was enough to fascinate him. He studied classical literature at high school, before obtaining a degree in History and Philosophy at the University of Rome. He had also developed an interest in painting, from the age of 16. Di Paolo followed the art scene that flourished in post-war Rome. He frequently met up with Gruppo Forma 1, a group founded by young Italian artists with a formalist and Marxist manifesto.
What is the meaning and importance of ‘Lost World’ to you?
‘Lost World’ aims to express a historical truth, to show that the period I worked as a photographer no longer exists. It was short and intense, which can only arouse nostalgia.
You documented a special period in Italy, right in the middle of recovery and extraordinary social changes. What was it like to witness all this, experience the creative hype with artists, actors and writers and different life stories as a profession?
Surviving the ‘special period of Italian history’ required a daily dose of virtual morphine. In the end, I found myself far from my world, without suffering - at least until the exhibition popped up. I have to admit that reliving so many moments of successful creativity through those pictures made me feel somewhat sad.
While certain things are visible in your images, some are vivid. Especially the feelings, the mental state of the people. How was it to be a storyteller and document post-war life?
You don’t step into the shoes of a storyteller having the intention of being one. You are a storyteller by instinct, particularly in photography. Telling a story in photography is immensely more difficult than telling a story in literature. The writer has the faculty of choosing the right moment, the suitable environment, even the climate, to write a chapter or even only a paragraph. The photographer who is about to “tell the story” of the moments of his period has only to trust the immediacy of his reactions to the stimuli that are created around him. Real situations don’t allow any replicas: epoch-making pictures are the result of unrepeatable magic moments.
Standing before you is Paolo di Paolo. At the ripe old age of 94, he was enjoying a peaceful life. But that all changed when he was faced with his former self, the photographer he locked up in a trunk half a century ago. These pages will take you back to post - Second World War Italy, from the journals of an elegant and humble photographer who survived those years through his passion for art, before ending his career prematurely.
INTERVIEW BY MERVE ARKUNLAR
It’s all in the past… That is what Paolo di Paolo believed when he gave up photography, 50 years ago. He put away his chronologically arranged archive, containing some 250,000 negatives, prints and slides, into a trunk destined for his basement. Paolo di Paolo was born in 1925, in Larino. His life changed when he came across a Leica III camera, in a shop window in Rome, four years after the end of World War II. Di Paolo did not have a clue about how to operate it, but its sheer beauty, as an object, was enough to fascinate him. He studied classical literature at high school, before obtaining a degree in History and Philosophy at the University of Rome. He had also developed an interest in painting, from the age of 16. Di Paolo followed the art scene that flourished in post-war Rome. He frequently met up with Gruppo Forma 1, a group founded by young Italian artists with a formalist and Marxist manifesto.
What is the meaning and importance of ‘Lost World’ to you?
‘Lost World’ aims to express a historical truth, to show that the period I worked as a photographer no longer exists. It was short and intense, which can only arouse nostalgia.
You documented a special period in Italy, right in the middle of recovery and extraordinary social changes. What was it like to witness all this, experience the creative hype with artists, actors and writers and different life stories as a profession?
Surviving the ‘special period of Italian history’ required a daily dose of virtual morphine. In the end, I found myself far from my world, without suffering - at least until the exhibition popped up. I have to admit that reliving so many moments of successful creativity through those pictures made me feel somewhat sad.
While certain things are visible in your images, some are vivid. Especially the feelings, the mental state of the people. How was it to be a storyteller and document post-war life?
You don’t step into the shoes of a storyteller having the intention of being one. You are a storyteller by instinct, particularly in photography. Telling a story in photography is immensely more difficult than telling a story in literature. The writer has the faculty of choosing the right moment, the suitable environment, even the climate, to write a chapter or even only a paragraph. The photographer who is about to “tell the story” of the moments of his period has only to trust the immediacy of his reactions to the stimuli that are created around him. Real situations don’t allow any replicas: epoch-making pictures are the result of unrepeatable magic moments.
CURA
18
OUT NOW
is a large format international biannual magazine from Istanbul. Focusing on arts, culture and society, each issue tackles various universal subjects within a distinct theme.
Address
Karaköy Tarihi Un Değirmeni Binası, Kemankeş Mahallesi, Ali Paşa Değirmen Sokak 16, 34425, Karaköy Istanbul, Turkey
+90 212 232 4288
contact@212magazine.com
CURA
18
OUT NOW
is a large format international biannual magazine from Istanbul. Focusing on arts, culture and society, each issue tackles various universal subjects within a distinct theme.
Address
Karaköy Tarihi Un Değirmeni Binası, Kemankeş Mahallesi, Ali Paşa Değirmen Sokak 16, 34425, Karaköy Istanbul, Turkey
+90 212 232 4288
contact@212magazine.com
CURA
18
OUT NOW
is a large format international biannual magazine from Istanbul. Focusing on arts, culture and society, each issue tackles various universal subjects within a distinct theme.
Address
Karaköy Tarihi Un Değirmeni Binası, Kemankeş Mahallesi, Ali Paşa Değirmen Sokak 16, 34425, Karaköy Istanbul, Turkey
+90 212 232 4288
contact@212magazine.com