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Aura: Viaggio in Italia / Voyage to Italy
L’Italia, «matrice irripetibile di storia», e la sua Aura – «singolare intreccio di spazio e di tempo: l’apparizione unica di una lontananza». Lo sguardo sensibile e ironico di Alessandro Celani si posa con delicatezza sui santuari laici della bellezza italiana, sugli uomini, le donne e le memorie che li attraversano: una mappa fotografica che va da Orosei a Siracusa al Passo dello Stelvio, passando per l’eternità in frantumi di Roma, Firenze, Venezia. Ogni scatto, accompagnato da annotazioni in forma di diario, sentenza o epigrafe, è la tappa di un’autobiografia intellettuale e allo stesso tempo di una riflessione antropologica sulle innumerevoli contraddizioni del bel paese. Fra schermi digitali, rovine del passato, ombre ed echi di poeti e artisti da Werner Herzog a Italo Calvino, il Grand Tour di Celani è un discorso universale sulla miseria e la grandezza, sul destino e l’origine, sull’umano e il divino. Edizione bilingue italiano/inglese.
224 pages, Hardcover
Published November 30, 2017
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
October 14, 2021
A photo album and a travelogue portioned into bite-sized chunks, it reveals a layer of Italy as observed from the viewpoint of a seasoned tour guide who has long lost infatuation with opulent monuments and marble porn.
Each photo is accompanied by a short reflection. Most of them I couldn't relate to, as there was too much intellectual involution - references to poets whose names don't ring a bell under my limited dome of culture.
Half a dozen entries though were both, down-to-earth and transcendental, striking a chord in me which I normally don't dare to disturb too much. Once this chord is oscillating, I feel quite unhinged from the ordinary frame of mind. The frame whose function it is to render me as an accessible member of society.
Here is one of my four favourite entries:
"Blessed are the short-sighted who walk in a Baroque palace. They do not fall into its trap: the trick of palimpsests, of stucco curls, of the golden frames. As soon as the image blurs, visions arise. The rustle of dance, the rubbing of rags on Majolica. The diverse inhabitants of the continent of life. Then one needs to stay on the threshold, in the cloudy flow of light. Someone, while traveling from one time to another, will brush against us."
My one-sentence-summary of the sentiment that seemed to go throughout most of the collection, or simply a mood that resonated with me the strongest:
Tragedy is made up of unnoticed values,
the ones we only gain after we lost touch with them.
***
Each photo is accompanied by a short reflection. Most of them I couldn't relate to, as there was too much intellectual involution - references to poets whose names don't ring a bell under my limited dome of culture.
Half a dozen entries though were both, down-to-earth and transcendental, striking a chord in me which I normally don't dare to disturb too much. Once this chord is oscillating, I feel quite unhinged from the ordinary frame of mind. The frame whose function it is to render me as an accessible member of society.
Here is one of my four favourite entries:
"Blessed are the short-sighted who walk in a Baroque palace. They do not fall into its trap: the trick of palimpsests, of stucco curls, of the golden frames. As soon as the image blurs, visions arise. The rustle of dance, the rubbing of rags on Majolica. The diverse inhabitants of the continent of life. Then one needs to stay on the threshold, in the cloudy flow of light. Someone, while traveling from one time to another, will brush against us."
My one-sentence-summary of the sentiment that seemed to go throughout most of the collection, or simply a mood that resonated with me the strongest:
Tragedy is made up of unnoticed values,
the ones we only gain after we lost touch with them.
***
Displaying 1 of 1 review