Free yourself from the prison of preconceptions to enter the hidden folds of the island of Revoluciòn
Cuba, prison or a nearly successful political project? To date it is still impossible, and ofter wrong, to force Cuba into some kind of historical or social definition. J.F. Kennedy called it the imprisoned island, an island trapped in the dependencies imposed by an array of both internal and external events, prisoner of revolutions and involutions happening at local and global level. Over Time, Cuba has become a symbol and has stimulated social, political enthusiasm and slogans worldwide: it’s the island that has, as they say, imprisoned an entire nation.
I desperately fall in love with the rubble’s scent of buildings – both physical and mental – that quiver in the effort to be born again: if something is falling to pieces I clearly perceive a spirit of regeneration that stretches forward to the rithm of Son, the words sung by Chan Chan Compay Segundo, a prayer to the Virgin Mary and a Santeria ritual.
I see a world that strives towards recomposing itself with immense pride, clinging to the past but living the present and cautiously waiting for the future. The force with which this land and its people challenge the stereotypical image we have of it it’s quite unbelievable, and that is why choosing a photographic project in Cuba is a responsibility that I try humbly to assume. In a profound respect of the human beings that I portray, I seek not to take a position in order not to become a prisoner myself behind the lens.
I prepare the trip and a brief phone call with Italian journalist Gianni Minà point me in the right direction.
“Minà, what is your advice?”
“Go without prejudices of any kind and remember that history is not to be found on the books we read: go and see for yourself and then tell YOUR story, go to Cuba, and look with your own eyes”
Mr. Minà underlines the thick cultural roots that have found fertile ground in Cuba: from the Instituto Cubano de Arte y Industria Cinematograficos, poets, musicians, artists and writers that have woven a complex network between the island itself and the rest of the world, to the Escuela Nacional De Ballet that has seen the birth of great stars, to the profound friendiship with Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
My job will therefore be to move quietly, to watch and listen with great patience what the people of the post- revolutionary island, perhaps ready for the next step, will have to say. Their story has a rhythm and me must listen to it.
It has a vibration that we must try and perceive. It has an origin and a source, but it will take time, because it’s direction and location are never so obvious. The fil rouge seems to be the smiling attitude, the intelligence, an impressive widespread culture and a strong, immense determination.
Article pubublished on ArtApp 16 | LA PRIGIONE