L’invenzione del padre

Padre vecchio e malato padre forte e onnipotente  padre assente padre ritrovato padre spaventoso. Questi sono i padri di Lydia Goldblatt, Aneta Bartos, Diana Markosian, Amanda Tetrault. Consigliato caldamente vedere le serie intere al rispettivo link.

Lydia Goldblatt – La soglia


Lydia Goldblatt, “Still Here” (2010-2013)

“I explore the cyclical scope of existence that sees nature’s fingers unpick our fragile yet insistent efforts to build, construct and create.

These images are from a series about my parents, focussing on my elderly father’s mortality, and stemming from a desire to address the inevitable changes wrought by his approaching death.

I am witnessing human fragility, the physical and psychological boundaries of a human essence. I am interested in the indefinable thresholds that mark out our individual existence, and in the subtle process of erasure that returns us to the state from which we emerge.

In making work about a personal experience of mortality, I am exploring the cyclical scope of existence that sees nature’s fingers unpick our fragile yet insistent efforts to build, construct and create.”


Aneta Bartos – L’eroe


Aneta Bartos, Dad (2014)

“Visiting him and being in his presence takes me back to my youth, to what felt like an endless stretch of days in a worry-free world anchored by my powerful and loving father. I reflect on how his commitment to education, fitness, organic food and simplicity of basic living has kept him so young and full of vitality. These images represent phantoms of the past, but are living and captured in the present. My father is steadfast and consistent, the embodiment of stability and strength.” (il resto dell’intervista su Huffington Post)


Diana Markosian – La ricerca



Diana Markosian, Inventing my father (2013-14)

“For most of my life, my father was nothing more than a cut out in our family album.

An empty hole.

(…) When I was a child, my father would visit my brother and me, floating in and out of our lives.

Today, the visitor is me.

The man standing across from me didn’t recognize me. I didn’t recognize him either.

I felt out of place.

A part of me wanted to get to know him.

We started to take photos of each other, the space between us, as a way of working through that void.

My father started to take pictures of me as well (…)

I keep looking for him.

I think I always will.”


Amanda Tetrault – Il margine


Amanda Tetrault, Phil and me (2004)


Daddy dearest: a letter from Amanda to her father

Dear Phil, Philop, Flip Flop, Daddy, I started taking photographs of you, and me with you, around eight years ago. I was 19 and had come back from a summer working in Maine. You probably don’t remember this, but that fall you were really ill. Crazier than I had seen you in years. You were drinking hard, smelling, wearing underwear on your head and spewing all kinds of nonsense. You didn’t believe you were ill, you weren’t taking your medication and there were very few lucid days.

Taking photographs of us was, and continued to be, the only way for me to stay sane or meet you at all when you were sick and drunk.

…..This is for you and me and for every mother, father, daughter, son, brother, sister, husband, wife that has ever had to live with or alongside mental illness.

I love you, Mandy xo


In precedenza abbiamo visto il padre di Annie Leibovitz e quello di Elinor Carucci

Il padre_2 Elinor Carucci

Carucci_My Father and I, 2002

“The camera is a way to get close, and to break free.” 

 Elinor Carucci


In un’intervista dal sito Visura Magazine  Carucci rivela che la sua fotografia documenta la vicinanza con i suoi familiari, ma al tempo stesso risponde ad un bisogno di indipendenza, di stabilire un confine, di mettere una certa distanza tra loro e se stessa. Una sorta di “connessione distaccata”, si potrebbe forse tradurre – che mi pare esattamente la qualità delle sue fotografie.

“My work is a documentation of closeness, as well as a need to establish a boundary, a certain distance between them and myself, in a detached and related way.”

A Laura Barton (The Guardian) Carucci spiega che non c’è grande differenza tra fotografie posate o no: è piuttosto una differenza di onestà. Barton conviene che il lavoro di Carucci è caratterizzato da una inflessibile onestà, che sembra manifestarsi soprattutto nella predilezione per fotografare i suoi soggetti svestiti. Predilezione che non è sempre frutto di una scelta deliberata quanto una conseguenza di uno stile di vita che a lei era sempre parso “normale”, fino a che non si è confrontata con le reazioni della gente. Non aveva affatto l’intenzione di provocare, ma si è resa conto che certe sue foto ammiccavano a certi tabù e a certe tensioni inespresse, e neanche pensabili: ma forse, viene da dire guardando le foto, fotografabili. 

“I guess it’s a combination of the way I was at home – the way my mom or dad would walk around in their underwear, or after their bath naked. It’s not like we’re living our lives naked, it’s just before the shower, where I can walk into the bathroom in my underwear and ask my father something. It’s so, so normal and I thought that most families are like that. I realised only after I took those images how unusual it is, because of how shocked people were by my photographs. I realise that some of my pictures were more provocative – like me and my father naked. Even for us, that was a bit weird. But images of me and my mum naked? I’m like, ‘What’s the big deal? You’ve never seen your mum naked?’ And many people said no. I was really surprised.”

Carucci_Father touches my hair, 2001Carucci_Father with white underwear, 1988Carucci_Mom touches Father, 2000


Carucci_My Father and I, 1999

Sguardo di figlia: il padre_1 Annie Leibovitz

Tempo fa qui sul blog ho dato spazio ad una serie di foto in cui diverse fotografe ritraevano la propria madre. Oggi inizia una serie in cui diverse fotografe (alcune presenti anche nella prima serie) ritraggono il padre.

La prima è Annie Leibovitz, con tre foto da “A Photographer’s Life, 1990-2005”, libro composto da foto di personaggi famosi alternate ad un diario intimo e a tratti molto cupo. Il padre, al contrario della madre, compare sempre insieme agli altri membri della famiglia, fino alla foto sul letto di morte – quasi che la morte, potente catalizzatore, abbia portato alla coscienza il rapporto a due.

IMG_9710Annie Leibovitz, My brother Philip and my father, 1988

IMG_9706Annie Leibovitz, My parents with their Grandson Ross, 1992


Annie Leibovitz, My Father, February 3, 2005