My parents flat is loaded with photos. On the walls and on the furniture, there are framed portraits showing the different stages of my childhood. Photos of their youth & wedding, and there are also images of old members of our family, who are no longer with us. I have always seen pictures floating around me, since I have memory. They were something that was impressed in my mind while I was growing up. As of today, when I go to somebody’s house, if I don’t see pictures around, for me there is a “hole”, a sort of “empty” place where somebody or something is missing. In the late 80’s, early 90’s, when I was a child, my dad would enjoy playing with the camera in his hands, more to play with me rather than taking pictures, and my mother was committed to document and to keep our family memory alive.
Have you ever asked yourself : “Which is the first photo that I remember being part of? Which is the first portrait where I was aware being the protagonist?”. In my case, it is a shot dated late spring 1988, I was almost five years old at that time. My mother had asked her boss, Franco, who was a passionate amateur photographer, to take some portraits of me. For the first 5 years of my life, he was my “official” photographer.
I can’t recall the whole afternoon but I have recalled some details of it :
– I remember it was a sunny afternoon and that our gathering was at a park close to our home ;
– My mother made me wear a dress that she loved ;
– We went to the park by bike and I was sitting behind of her ;
– I remember feeling observed, running, jumping and going on the swing ;
– He asked me to look into the camera.
It is strange. Somehow I am surprised at having a partial memory of that episode that happened when I was such a tender age… but other times I ask myself how is it possible that I don’t remember pictures that were taken previously to this one, when I was even younger?











