Aldo Taranto


In the harmony of its parts, photographic series inspired by a definite objective could become both the most tender lyric and the most powerful weapon. Moholy- Nagy thought indeed that the knowledge of photography was crucial as much as the knowledge of the alphabet. His fear that “The wide spreading of photographical techniques can cause an unpleasant state of things, like the prevalent idea that it’s possible to take ‘nice’ photos without any difficulty, just by following a scheme of instructions” is still alive. Being very careful in avoiding normative repetition, this photographer needed to choose; and he did it without any helping formulary. He did it not in just one day, due to the variety of possible results, because the variety of results achievable by overexposing or underexposing or using other means is never-ending. To aim at his own result, this photographer didn’t add anything to the instruments at his own disposal: he just subtracted, because even in photographical art, imagination is not bound to instrumental logic. On the other hand, he choose not to give up the beauty of the darkest blacks and of those shadows that make you think about the depths, and not about the plan surfaces, of black paper, about the delicate half tones and nuances. What is worthy for him is to weight the exact amount of both clearness and softness, because clearness is hard, while softness is tender. To realize this work of art, the photographer needed therefore  to take a stand, to make a gesture: decision, indecision, a relation with the object that was to be photographed and that was still to be acknowledged in terms of borders and of essence, the only things already known being its different levels of development. What happens during this dizzy development is not a panoramic view, but a shifting; and this vertigo coming from the ruins is the first site. Here, the photographer starts from the sublime, and so he risks to fail in keeping the highness, because this ruins are “a burning vision”, a vision that burns even the film itself, even the vision of time, a time lived by, extended until nowadays, like a point made of identity between history and our personal lives. Chosen with precision, the structural pivot contains an impulse at the maximum of freedom allowed to the light, surrounding it together with the ruins in a square, and holding it in the four sides of the shape, foundation of the builder. Here, at the roots, the dazzling castle got to be taken by a rudimentary photographical device, just like the one a child of past times could have used. The street is the second site: Via Cruyllas. Here the shifting, being prone to the slope, is oblique, just like a look thrown both toward distance and closeness, just to be aware of where one is putting one’s foot. There’s the same atmosphere of the 7th century travellers: the research of a correct point of view corresponds to the most meditated part, even though it looks like a note. In the air, an announcement: a man in a suit lends his ear to the land to protect himself, even though there is no danger at all. The loud noise of three shots from the mortar announces, just like a horn in a battle, that the time has come. Here, the photographer, conforming his vision to the triumph of the sacred, enlarges it e participates: trees and rocks are in bloom with human beings, but far away, in the landscape, because the scene inclines in a bound of arms, shoulders and legs holding the Saint. What was dumb and secret, the relationships between man and divine on which an entire culture depends, shows up and finally settles down. Life, even the part of life that is out of field, flows back again, and time comes back to what it was: a flood that flows from the source to the sea and then scatters away on the horizon.

Mario Fillioley

Testi | texts

Associazione Culturale Promo Loco
Via Cruyllas Calatabiano.

Traduzione |  translates
Virginia Vaccaro
Traduzione |  translates
Mario Fillioley

Ccopyrigth 2010 Promo Loco Associazione Culturale P.IVA 04735520878