Sale Nella Luce

There are things you can recognise as part of your homeland even with your eyes closed.

The sound of a scooter passing along the seafront, voices coming from the street, music playing somewhere nearby, and that warm air that seems unwilling to leave, even long after midnight.

“Sale nella luce” takes shape around these images.

I liked the idea of capturing summer without relying on postcard beaches, perfect sunsets, or scenery made for photographs. I wanted a real street, a low wall with a few glasses left on it, people talking, music coming through open windows, and two people exchanging glances in the middle of it all.

The title also plays on something I particularly like about the Italian language.

“Sale” means salt, the kind the sea leaves on your skin, but it's also the Italian word for “rises”. The rhythm can rise, the temperature can rise, and so can that feeling you get when someone looks at you in a certain way.

And all of this happens in the light, though not necessarily sunlight. It could be streetlights, windows, or the lights of places opening onto the street.

I wanted these images to coexist with a strong rhythmic sound, giving the music the movement of those summer evenings when there seems to be no clear boundary between the street, the sea, and the celebration.

It's a composition I associate with physical sensations: warm air against the skin, bass you can hear from a distance, and walls still holding the heat of a full day of sunshine.

I didn't need to imagine an extraordinary summer. I was more interested in how extraordinary an ordinary summer can sometimes feel.