Gianni Leone
I've never done this before. I feel uncomfortable. I'm not interested in writing a few lines on the pictures taken by a photographer. I think I am not qualified to reveal, clarify and make those who look at those photos understand what they actually want to tell, or why they leave us indifferent or surprised. No, I have never done this before, maybe because I have also taken many photos over the years; then it's good to have critics and art and photography historians for this. I am writing this while Federico Pacini's photos are scrolling on my tablet; I look at these 92 pictures with attention and interest, and I stop. I wait. What can I say?
An adjective comes to my mind: beautiful; and I think of all the times, many times, that our thoughts, our judgments and our feelings really mean what we see and feel. Beautiful, yes, but also ugly. Here I am looking at a small house, or perhaps a tool shed. It's old and destined to be abandoned and demolished. It's really ugly, but its red color that once gave the house a spring flavor enchants me and pushes me to listen to the adagio of Haydn's string quartet. Yes, this Pacini's photo is beautiful. I wonder what has driven you to take it? There is always a moment of elusive mystery in the gaze of those who stand in front of an object or a figure with the camera firmly in their hands. And what about that dog standing at the door and ready to run out, out in the open, without ever looking back? The "open" of Rainer Maria Rilke.
I don't want to say anything else, but Federico Pacini's photos, his places, his cities that with light steps, only 6 km, reach his Siena, all, perhaps, leave a mark on the beholder. It happened to me. I have always thought that a photo is motionless only in appearance, but it actually lives in our imagination, and only the photo itself could reveal us the path and the destination. There it is the picture, under our gaze, it tells a possible story, and Pacini is well aware. .
Gianni Leone
Stile, 2022 (89books)