Finalmente posso andare

In 2020, I lost my grandma and my aunt. It happened at the beginning of the pandemic in Italy due to Covid-19. Even though the virus had nothing to do with the death of my relatives, it prevented me from seeing them and saying goodbye because I was stuck in my house.

I remember that only three or four people could attend the funerals because it was necessary to have permission to move around in the car. I was at home with my younger brother, feeling the emptiness taking control of my stomach. I couldn't grasp the reality of what was happening. It was surreal.

I was in my bedroom with my computer, browsing through my photographic archive, and without even thinking about it, I started selecting the images that felt close to me. Even in post-production, I tried to create a suspended reality where you can't truly understand when these pictures were taken: they look old, but at the same time, you can feel their warmth.

I desperately needed light and peace, searching for them everywhere by giving new meaning to the images I had taken years before. Once the quarantine ended, I began creating new images that could help me process these losses.

Nature and people, the protagonists of my story, are somehow connected. I expressed my family through their spaces and details. My grandparents always lived in the Umbrian mountains, in a small rural village called Loreno. I'm accustomed to seeing myself reflected in that environment.

This is the farewell I didn't have the chance to give to my relatives. Everyone should have the opportunity to say goodbye to their loved ones.