THE COLOUR AND THE SHAPE Personal Project Photography
THE COLOUR AND THE SHAPE The light is clean and crisp, any diffusion washed away by the sea breeze, the shadows as sharp as the knives the old men carry on their belts and the colour palette seems chosen by an old master, perfectly complementary in shade and contrast, intense, like I have never seen before. The blue sea, the red houses, the green cacti, the yellow gras, dried up by the scorching midday heat. When the sun sets, it lays down with it a glowing pastel blanket over everything.
The people seem as crisp as the light, sharp as the shadows, rough as the terrain. Honest but warm. “Nice baskets” I say to the old lady on the steps up to the castle, selling handmade goods to tourists passing by. “So buy one then, I cannot eat compliments” she answers grumpily, followed by the smallest of smiles. On top of the door of the little medieval city hall, the slightly ripped flags of Italy and Europe are dancing in the wind next to the islands own flag. After a while it becomes quite clear that here they follow their own set of rules.
The Pizzaiolo called Lucifero puts one of his round creations in the stove, heated by the quality wood that is carefully stored in a pile behind the pizzeria, overlooking the sun melting into the sea on the horizon. Lucifero is not his real name but he is working with the fire so everyone calls him like that. I try to find my 6 months old son, who had been instantly torn from our hands entering the restaurant by the women working in the kitchen. My partner spent her summers in this restaurant, on this beach, in this little town. They did the same to her parents when she was his age. Family.
