«Ischia, a paradise seen from the sky» welcomes shooting by Gianni Mattera, chef and photographer in love of his land in the sea I had the good fortune to fly over the island for three times. In the beginning of August a long time ago, tied to the rigid safety belt on a heavy institutional helicopter with the legendary photographer of Il Mattino, Antonio Troncone, we had to make a report of the press and tourism and, for a few minutes, we touched lightly crests of hills upside down, because our phantasmagoric pilot wanted to play a little bit with us guests on board, bipeds with roots accustomed to the ground!
I meet Maria Luigia Ungaro, called Marilisa by friends and known as “Mari di Guai”, to the sea. A day with the sun, and while in Naples it rains, we taste coffee in Bagno Ricciulillo. “I dream of waking me up one day and face the satisfaction of having achieved what I wanted”, she says. Independent, determined, she loves being the center of attention because she loves the exchange that comes from the audience, especially when she performs.
Meeting with a master of lettering design, graphic design and visual communication. Born in Forio, he lives in Brooklyn and teaches at the university in New York, is the creator of “Serif Gothic font”, and is viscerally tied to the land and language of origin, in the spirit of pleasure. And of a contagious and ironic transgression.
Sehnsucht for Ischia - The Poseidon Gardens, the island, the shapes, the colors, the charm and the desire of desire closed in a jar
My first encounter with the island dates back more than 30 years ago: with my father to buy the Poseidon Gardens, shortly after the purchase. It was love at first sight, the first impression from the boat was that of a large rock, covered with a soft green cloak. The road that led from the port of Ischia to Forio was a succession of twists and surprises: I was kidnapped and enchanted by the place and returned to me insistently to mind some lines of Goethe:
Know’st thou the land where lemon-trees do bloom,
And oranges like gold in leafy gloom;
A gentle wind from deep blue heaven blow, (...)
The crag leaps down and over it the flood:
Know’st thou it, then?
’Tis there! ’tis there
Our way runs; O my father, wilt thou go?
In this short Mignon song, the girl of Italian origins protagonist of a novel by Goethe, recalls with nostalgia her country and for generations of Germans become the personification of the south desire. In this vision of the landscape and classicist architecture is the Sehnsucht, or the misery, the longing for Southern Italy which lasts from ‘700 to date.
Tlin, tlin, tt-lin, tt-lin, tlin-tt-lin…ttt-lin…tt.
A treacherous, docile, piercing pounding.
It was the sound of the anchor chain pulled up by the vessel of Santa Rita departing: the ferry to Naples, the line (not so) faster in youthful summers. They were played, punctuated by the sound tests of Lampara, afternoon workshop that broke the first afternoon; a prelude to what would become a phantasmagoric by-night, which was a part of the Riva Destra, a real parlor.
The wait for the night spread, and slipped like pulsing blood in the sleeves of the guests of the Beltramonto Hotel, hidden in the palace at number 28 of Via Porto, with its balconies and green shutters and double doors polished by uncle Tonino with his fingers, the lost sight of the rocky sailor, toward the red ball of the West.
«The photograph by Enzo Rando is able to grasp the millennial breath of the island where he was born. It exalts the Mediterranean essence of the land where nature and history have collided and met many, many times to create a harmony by the conflict».