SpazioReale veste l'antico convento di Monte Carasso a nuovo, di nuovo. Dentro, la mostra di World Press Photo, per la prima volta in Ticino, aperta venerdì, in via eccezionale, anche di sera. Scatti singoli o storie, in posa o meno, a colori o in bianco e nero, di realtà crude, di guerre o malattie, di quotidianità, di sport, persino di animali. Roba grossa, prestigiosa; di sopra troviamo le fotografie più dure da mandare giù, non sono più stese come era stato per Il resto della vita, sei tu, steso. L'ultima volta, finite le scale e messi i piedi sulla ghiaia, ti mancava il fiato perché ti aspettavano delle immagini enormi, illuminate dal dietro nell'ombra della cantina: gioco perfetto per accendere la forza disarmante di quegli scatti. Questa volta, scendendo le scale, le foto sono esposte seguendo lo stesso stile del piano superiore, alcuni scatti riescono persino ad alleviare, almeno in parte, la tensione immagazzinata fino a lì. L'accoglienza è affidata ai pinguini reali, a colori.
E fuori, fuori stasera, 21 giugno, c'è un palchetto con tre sedie, qualche faro, un proiettore. A guardarlo in silenzio, una schiera di sedie ancora per la maggior parte vuote, in attesa di essere riempite, separate a metà da un corridoio che ospita un cavalletto con una telecamera. Qualche minuto dopo le nove, di sera, scoccate puntualmente dalle campane del convento, sarà Gianluca Grossi ad aprirci la prima serata di EventiReali, per introdurci il suo collega britannico (ma con il padre - ci tiene a specificare - dal quale ha ereditato la testa dura, di origini italiane) Giles Duley. A quell'ora si saranno riempite tutte le sedie, quelle già disposte sul piazzale e quelle aggiunte poi, così come si saranno riempiti i muretti intorno e chi più ne ha, il cielo sarà finalmente sereno - ma ancora troppo chiaro per proiettare le fotografie, la luna grande e bella, le orecchie e il cuore pronti, o almeno così ci diamo d'intendere.
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| © 2013 scàja |
"Cambieremo lo sguardo sulle disgrazie e, malgrado la sofferenza, cercheremo la meraviglia."
We tought, I tought, I was ready to hear your story, Giles. Well, I was not. We heard about your injuries. Almost everybody talks about that, it seems quite simple to do. It's quite simple to describe you in a certain way and extremely hard to do it in another: I like challenges, you seemed to like them too: so I'll try the second one. I have to start by saying my description won't have the claim to be right or wrong, it would just pick up what I've learned, absorbed or thought from and about you, starting by the time I saw for the first time a picture representing you until the magic evening in Monte Carasso and about what you moved, what appened. The first picture I saw from you, as I was saying, was this one. I remember the first thing I thought was: "what a smile". Than came this and one more time I was quite impressed by the dignity and the courage it was screaming out without saying a world. Finally I came to Monte Carasso so glad to meet - somehow - the great photographer I'd heard you should be and your beautiful Jennie. You told us about your life before and after "the cold morning of February 2011". You spoke about the difference between the you "photographer" and the you "human being". You brought us both to smiles and to tears with your shots (everyone was a door to open, to get lost in to know one more incredible story) and strength but also with your sense of humor. It was such a special night, an incredible, touching and important night. I'm really pleased and thankful I could be there. I want to thank the SpazioReale Team, without which the evening wouldn't have taken place: good job, guys, really good job. But even more I want to give a special thanks to you, Giles: you have explained us the meaning of love and passion, for life and lives, for humanity, stories, family, partner, works, friends. The matter of smiling and to take the light out of every night (like the moon over us and your photos in front of us, last friday), of setting goals and than to pursue them, of avoiding the rage. You taught us impossible can be so, so far away, if we just want to. I've written I was not ready to hear your story. Now that I've heard it, I think I'm ready to remember it and to make it a part of my life - like Gianluca already said. I will and want to remember you not for what you no more have, but for what you still and even tough - stronger than before - have. I will remember you as what you are: a great man and an amazing photographer.
I just want to say something more: me too, I'd like to learn to take color pictures (but maybe we'll simply never learn it, just do.) and tomorrow, after my last exam of this year, I'll be finally able to read your book. I'm just looking forward to, for both things. And maybe with the color photos I'll learn a bit better the English language, ok? I'm sorry for the mistakes. Se vi siete persi la serata con Giles, potete rivederla e sentirla qui.
