In My Eyes è un foglio A3 ripiegato su se stesso. Dentro ci sono fotografie analogiche scattate più o meno lontano da casa, più o meno lontano nel tempo. E anche qualche parola.

In My Eyes nasce dalla stanchezza dello schermo e dalla ripresa dei sensi.

Dopo anni passati a scansionare e pubblicare fotografie su blog più o meno effimeri ho sentito la necessità di vederle stampate su carta, di poterle annusare, toccare, strappare e magari, bruciare. L’ispirazione è arrivata da Chiara Mirelli e l’impaginazione da Andre (shrtwvs), la stampa invece da una piccola tipografia di Aosta (Il Timbro). Questo è quanto: pellicole, carta e inchiostro.

In My Eyes la trovi ovunque e da nessuna parte. Non ha una distribuzione se non i miei spostamenti e le mie finanze.

Luca

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In My Eyes is an A3 sheet, folded back on itself. Inside there are analog photos, shot more or less away from home, more or less far in time. And some words as well.

In My Eyes is born from screen fatigue and the recovery of the senses.

After years spent scanning and posting photos on blogs more or less ephemeral, I felt the need to see them printed on paper, being able to smell them, touch them, rip them and maybe even burn them.

Inspiration came from Chiara Mirelli and the layout from Andre (shrtwvs), while printing is from a small printshop in Aosta (Il Timbro). This is it: films, paper and ink.

You can find In My Eyes everywhere and nowhere. It has no distribution but my own travelling and finances.

Luca

When I was a kid I used to go for a bike ride with my dad on fire roads up the mountains, sometimes to go at a refuge, or most likely for the will of discovering new places and just having some breaths of nice and fresh mountain air. We used to say we go for some mountain-biking. Nowadays we call this “Enduro” biking, but that’s about the same old thing. Since when I got into this “new” discipline, I heard from a lot of riders talking about this Invergneux pass, and everyone seemed so stoked about it, literally saying that was THE one track you must ride in Aosta Valley. So finally some weeks ago I decided to go up there and try it with my mate Zac. We decided to start just after lunch. Go to the Invergneux pass means that you have to cross 2 different valleys. Starting from Lillaz, you reach the Urtier Valley where you e meet a couple of donkeys, some chickens and a lot of cows. You then have to reach the pass, pushing the bike, and figuring out what you are leaving behind you, the sight can now spread in every direction, the only minus being the powerlines that cross the valley. The climb continues, over the last rocky slope, culminating at 2906 meters. On top, a couple of pictures are a must, a little grappa drink gives you a bit of heat and you are ready to head down the Grauson Valley. The first part is just epic, you wish it would never end, surrounded by wonderful meadows, in which you feel so small trying to conquer them on your little bicycles, and so you keep on riding down, the valley get wider and wider, until it becomes narrow again toward the end of it. If I think now of all the sweat to go up the pass, and what I enjoyied on the ride down, i feel a big smile coming upon my face, thinking, yes, all those rumors about Invergneux pass were right! We are almost down and the light is fading away, it’s getting late, we reach back to the village of Gimillan that it is almost 8 pm; the only bar in the village is already closed, that could sound strange, but up here the tourists shall already go to bed at that time!

More here: VDAmonamour.

via aostavalleyfreeride.com

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The summer is almost gone on the high pastures of Aosta Valley, but down on the plains people is still suffering from the season’s heat. Up here everything changes towards the end of august, and all the colors turn to brown, yellow and red. The air, except during the central hours, becomes sharp as soon as the smallest breeze comes up. But the biggest change in the impressions and sensations is given by the sunlight, which is now much lower than in the mid-summer and builds up lights and shadows on our path and on the side of the mountains. And we talk about a path even if we’re pedalling up there, because it almost seems to hear the footsteps of a millennial tradition, a pilgrimage that goes along the same path that today bikers, runners and trekkers, they all follow to get on top of Punta Chaligne. It is believed that the pilgrimage that takes place up here every 16th of August, starting at 4 am at the church of Gignod, has started during the first half of the 17th century, when european and alpine populations where killed in masses by the bubonic plague.
The reach of the magnificent cross located on the top of Punta Chaligne is way faster on a mountain-bike than during the pilgrimage, also because you can start the tour from the village of Buthier at 1350m. and the trail that climbs from there gently goes all the way up to the Chaligne refuge first and up to the Alpe Chaligne Farms at 2234m. after. A stop at the Chaligne refuge is almost a must (if you are not on an athletic stress with chrono and cardio on) and you can be delighted with exquisite typical foods and local wines; moreover it’s really interesting to see how nicely the architecture of the newly rebuilt refuge was taken into account, standing together with the local farms and pastures in such a lovely and respectful way. Entering the refuge is always warming and charming, the staff is lovely and the fireplace will give the magic touch to the experience. Once back on track, the last bit of the trail, to reach the Col de Metz at 2487 m. has to be climbed with the bike on your shoulders, almost to remember you the pilgrimage spirit of that ascent. From here the downhill trail options are countless and the best choice is to have a guide with you, or at least have a good map of the area: the reward is guaranteed, and the images can tell it!

More here: VDAmonamour.

via aostavalleyfreeride.com

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Ad agosto sono stato al Bivacco Arno con Elisa, quattro stelle cadenti e una bottiglia di vino divino. Qualche settimana dopo sono salito alla becca Pougnenta con una birra amara, qualche grammo di mocetta e un paio di doppie esposizioni. L’estate è finita due giorni fa.

Canon Eos 1n + Fuji Superia X-TRA 400

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Ad agosto duemilaquindici sono stato in Sardegna. La mia prima volta sull’Isola risale a vent’anni fa o giù di lì. Mi ricordo tre cose: il villaggio turistico, il buffet del villaggio turistico e la sede del Partito Comunista (fuori dal villaggio turistico). La mia seconda volta risale a un mese fa e i ricordi sono più presenti, un pò come quando passi da Devendra Banhart ai Guano Padano. Per esempio mi ricordo di un tramonto dal finestrino, di tapparelle abbassate e di banchetti prelibati. Di un albero bellissimo, lì, nella sabbia dei turisti fatta di umani lucidi e prove costume ormai al tracollo, che comunque il più bello lì era proprio lui, e poi un’altro tramonto, onde, grotte, buoi, pecore, cancelli e vigne. Di Natura e profumi. Mi ricordo di strade. Di un mirto velenoso e di un paese scontroso. Di sedie isolate. Di un’atelier dove tutto era corrente, incoerente ma disarmante. Di una Lancia Fulvia 1.3 messa lì che sembrava uscita dal concessionario, nel millenovecentosettantatre. Mi ricordo di un’ospitalità rara ed infine di una casa che se non la vedi non ci credi e che poi quando la vedi, cazzo quando la vedi ti sembra di non aver visto altro, o quasi, e la guardi pensando che se l’arte per esser tale conviene che sia inutile, necessita comunque di un’eccezione.

Hasselblad 500 cm + Kodak Trix 400 + Fuji Provia 400X + Fujifilm x100s

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“A San Luréns l’ua la tens”, ovvero, per la festività di San Lorenzo (10 agosto) l’uva incomincia a mostrare qua e là qualche acino colorato, il che significa che l’annata prossima sarà ottima, o così parrebbe. Per togliere i dubbi a fine luglio Alice e Vinz si sono sposati, circondati di colori, tannini e tabacco (e piante di pomodori). Tanti auguri a loro per questa e per tutte le annate venture, colorate e millesimate! Noi, i festeggianti, siamo rimasti con loro qualche giorno, giusto per essere sicuri dei colori e perchè di tannini così, raramente se ne incontrano, ma questa è un’altra storia, Sauvages!

Hasselblad 500 cm + Nikon EM + Kodak Trix 400 + Fujifilm x100s

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Aosta is a town in the heart of the small region of Aosta Valley, that has many reasons to be considered one of the most fascinating bike detinations of the Alps. In the last years it seems to have  become one of the most renowed bike destinations of all europe for the most demanding riders from all Europe. So first Aosta’s position right in the center of the region, makes it a top spot to reach all the different spots around the valley in less than one hour of driving. Then, even tough the smaller villages and resorts may surely be of charm, biking just outside of town into endless woods and untouched nature, and being able to get back on the bike to local food and wine places downtown, cultural offers and the amazing roman architecture of the town, is quite a unique experience. Not to be forgot, the climate of the bottom of the valley, makes it possible to ride for a very long period (march to november) in opposition of the higher routes which can only be accessed for 2 or 3 months during summer. Just outside of town Aosta offers dozens of wonderful singletracks, and even a downhill track comes down to town from the Pila Bike park. For the less extreme riders, the wineyards in the surroundings of Aosta are surely a first choice, with the posibility to taste local wines in the cellars of local winemakers. So here are some pictures of a week end of early summer on the trails between Gressan and Saint Pierre area that has once again suggested to us: we live in Bike paradise!

More here: VDAmonamour.

via aostavalleyfreeride.com

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Letteralmente fuori dalla porta della città, con l’automobile e qualche spicciolo. Una roba semplice, perchè in questi giorni fa caldo e il mare è solamente ad un paio d’ore da qui. E al mare ci sono gli amici, il pesce buono e un bianco francese travestito da rosso, la stessa intensità di rosso che poi incontri sul palco, indossato da una direttrice d’orchestra d’eccezione e eccezionale. Ma prima c’è un paesino che sembra fatto con i Lego, che di giorno si lascia scopare senza precauzioni un pò da tutti, lo guardano da uno schermo, talvolta attaccato a un bastone, sorridono. Ma non c’è un cazzo da ridere. Chissà se ridevano anche Byron e Shelley quando lo videro per la prima volta. Sono giorni che penso all’utilità della fotografia nel 2015, al suo uso, al mio uso. Non arrivo da nessuna parte. Probabilmente non serve a nulla che io ci pensi. Ho WordPress, Tumblr e ora anche Instagram. Ho spazi virtuali creati da persone reali. Ho migliaia di fotografie analogiche e digitali che probabilmente non usciranno mai dalla loro cartella. E’ dunque a questo che servono tutte queste “piattaforme”? A dar sfogo al nostro ego creando delle mini esposizioni che dureranno fino alla caduta dei server delle suddette? Non credo di avere la risposta, in compenso in questo momento ho un paio di zanzare che mi ronzano intorno e un buon bicchiere di whisky nel quale bagnarmi. Ho momenti pieni e altri privi. Come può in così pochi anni esser diventata così importante l’immagine? E perchè? Che bisogno abbiamo di esporre ed esporci? Probabilmente lo stesso che ho io a pormi certe questioni. Intanto ho i Luminal che suonano e cantano dentro le casse. Ho condivisioni, mi piace e stati. Ma alla fine non ho un cazzo. Ho l’evoluzione del sistema binario, una ragazza, degli amici e delle robe che mi piace fare indipendentemente da tutte le stronzate che ho scritto qui sopra. Ho il presente, che come mi ricordano i ragazzi della band sopracitata: “Aspettiamo sempre tempi migliori ma non ci rendiamo conto che non c’è miglior tempo del presente.”

Fujifilm x100s

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A month has passed since our last day on the snow, and now i’m here writing about those days at the Grand Saint Bernard Pass. We started our trip on Saturday, little cloudy, and a bit of shy sun. We left the car a couple of meters before the barrier closing the road, skis on the back, comfy shoes and the way up the pass starts. Luckily the walking is not too long, and as soon as snow patches starts, we can start to skin up on slis and splitboards. I’s a nice experience to walk on a national road which is very very busy of cars and motorbike in the summer! The snow was now absolutely the center of the scene, and its presence made me think about the times the asphalt road was still not built; people walking up, or skiing with the first woodden skis, when nature was the queen and its rules could not be overtaken. We reached the hospice after about 4 hours of climbing, clouds still there but the air was smelling some changing, and after being welcomed by the monks, owners of the hospice, with nice soup, sausages and cheese, the sun finally came out strong and Massimo had the chance to take the group for a couple of runs over the hospice, followed by a nice dinner and an early bedtime. Church choirs wake us up in the morning, and we go out after a big breakfast. No sun, only fog. We still decide to try to climb the Mont Fourchon. The visibility is very poor, but on top we get to see for few minutes the Mont Blanc in the background; almost a reward for our stubborn climb in the dark. Quick t-shirt change on top with the wind almost taking away our stuff and we begin the descent. The visibility gets better going down, we even meet some Chamois. The spring is coming! While skiing down, i think about the last couple of hours spent in the hospice, the kindness of the monks, to the sweetness of the bread freshly made up there, the dinner, the visit to the Hospice museum, to the strength that this place holds, I think to modern times full of borders, absurd laws and so much suspicion. I think to what the borders where for our ancestors, to the exchange and the richness (not that made of coins) that people used to earn and donate. I think that you should go to the hospice, but do it by foot, ski or bike, it certainly has another taste.

More here: VDAmonamour.

via aostavalleyfreeride.com

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I believe in breaks, in those moments that make you stop, those when you must observe, you must breathe. Those obliged stops that make you admire the useless human presence. I believe in friendship and in selective condivision. I think that Misérin is one of those places, and much more, a magic spot out of time, even though those might be sold out words for the ones who live the mountain and does not take advantage  of it. To get there you don’t need iron legs and ultra-tech lightweight stuff but only a bit of heart and sweat. Then, you reach the Misérin, and everything opens up, like a city in summer o r a flower in spring. All of a sudden you notice that the eyes become the first thing, primary representation of your needs. You got everything there, the view, the wine, the beer, the commodities, vices and goodness and a dog called Woulk. Avalaible for the sight only, because taking advantage of certain things could not be so easy. In the end this is one of the places of my heart, together with others in this magic Valley in which I live, that still at 30 I did not explore all; sometimes stinginess is good – I should say – otherwise life could be so boring! That’s one of the places where I would like to stay for a couple of weeks of vacation. Not cruises or Club Med’s, just a house, a lake, nectar and some good pages to read. Maybe a bit of tobacco and some sweet note. Please, go to the Misérin Refuge, in winter, summer, spring or autumn, but absolutely go there, because if you still have a bit of humility and sensitivity, in those fucked up years 2000, this is the right place to take it out; that’s the right place to stop, at least for 5 minutes. Go away from everything, from the traffic, from the Bible, from the downtown aperitif and from the banks. But make it, before you crash, because that suffering wich is on everybody’s mouth, must be endorsed, at least once in your life. And that’s THE place where you can do it.

More here: VDAmonamour.

via aostavalleyfreeride.com

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Puntata fresca di sturie e situe con dentro la Fiera di Sant’Orso, le montagne dell’Argentera e la presentazione di Miseria nera. E poi un sacco di occhi rossi, vino, cibo, rifiuti solidi urbani, amici, pellicce, arrampicatori sociali, fiori, morti apparenti, gente che suona seduta, copricapi e ciao grazie.

Olympus mju + Nikon EM + b/w 250 + Kodak Gold 200

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