May 31, 2000

Dear Ternani #3

"First Trust/First Photos"

I call myself a "documentary photographer" because I take pictures that are visual documents of how people live in a particular place, at a particular time, under particular circumstances. My images might show a viewr something that the viewer has never seen before, or maybe something very familiar but from a new perspective. Ironically, when I photograph people I ask them to pretend that I am not photographing them - I want them to act naturally. My success as a photographer is greatly dependent on the kindness of strangers, on their willingness to expose themselves to my Leica or Nikon so that it can freeze a moment in their life that can then, in the resulting photograph be considered and appreciated infinitely. This is no small favor to ask of someone. To be photographed by me means to put trust in me: trust that I won't make images that will hurt someone's feelings,that I won't focus on their weaknesses, that I won't distort their reality (the camera CAN lie.) Gaining trust is difficult when I begin a project since usually I have never met my subjects before. Making it harder is the fact that I am a shy person and struggle to approach strangers to ask if I can photograph them. I always have a funny feeling in my stomach, I always brace myself for a "no" response (and I get lots of them.) Yet, with every project there comes a moment when the ice is broken between myself and my subject, a moment when trust is established and I can begin snapping pictures. In Terni during the summer of 1999 that moment came several days after my arrival.

I had decided to photograph the Feast of Sacro Cuore, a church that was close to my hotel. There was going to be a candlelight procession and afterwards a party in the church courtyard. I figured that since it was an organized event, the feast would give me the opportunity to insert myself into a group of Ternani and I would be able to get my cameras clicking. Still, on the evening of the feast I felt awkward and out of place as I tried to mingle with the crowd. I imagined that everyone was watching me and thinking:" Who's the tall guy with the Northern European complexion and what does he intend to do with those cameras?" Making matters worse was the fact that it was dark out and I would have to use an electronic flash which would draw even more attention to me. Then I noticed a group of women and little girls congregated in a corner of the courtyard. They caught my attention because of how they interacted. They were very physically affectionate with each other - I saw a lot of hugs, kisses, caresses and handholding - there was even a baby being fussed over. They seemed so happy to be with each other and so at ease in displaying this with body lasnguage. I decided to approach one of the women and ask for permission to take some photographs:

"Mi scusi, Signora. Sono un fotografo americano e sto facendo un servizio su Terni. Ho osservato l'affetto dimostrato tra questo gruppo. Posso fare delle foto di voi?"

The woman looked at me in surprise, then explained my request to the others. They all looked at each other for a moment, then she turned to me and replied: "Si, va bene. Perche' no?" It was in that moment that my Terni project began in earnest. The trust granted to me by those women gave me the confidence to begin asking other Ternani to trust me. A few weeks later I ran into the woman who had said "Perche' no?" Her name was Dina Giovenali and she owned a fruit and vegetable stand in the market at the center of town. She had been at the feast with her daughter, Simona, Simona's two little girls, and various other relatives and friends. I told Dina that I would send her copies of the photos but months later, when I had returned to the US and developed my film, I saw that those particular pictures were a disappointment and did not do justice to the subject. I felt bad about having nothing to send Dina so I wrote her a note promising that if I returned to Terni I would make sure that I took some decent photos of her family.

And so it was that on a cold dark night this past February I found myself a dinner guest at Dina's house, sitting in a big cozy room filled with kids and mothers and fathers and grandparents. It was a wonderful evening for me and I felt that same family warmth that I had first noticed on that hot night in June, eight months earlier.
And this time, grazie Dio, I got the photos right!