Galleria Browning, Asolo
opening 19th December h 19
from 22st December 2012 to 13th January 2013
sat-sun: 10-13, 15-18
Hereby few pics from the exhibition of photographer Mario Vidor in Asolo, I curated in collaboration with Urbanautica's Steve Bisson and Andrea Filippin. The images are taken from the series Neve sulla Marca.
Then winter comes and the earth is silent.
opening 19th December h 19
from 22st December 2012 to 13th January 2013
sat-sun: 10-13, 15-18
Hereby few pics from the exhibition of photographer Mario Vidor in Asolo, I curated in collaboration with Urbanautica's Steve Bisson and Andrea Filippin. The images are taken from the series Neve sulla Marca.
Then winter comes and the earth is silent.
Those green hills that during the hot summer were
places for lovers and fitness fans are now sprinkled with white; suddenly a
candid blanket covers the broad plains, the bare vines and the trees stripped of
their warm leaves and rich fruits.
A light icy mist welcomes the morning’s first sunrays
while the inhabitants are still snugly sleeping in their comfortable homes.
This land of wine, spring swallows, harvest festivals
and luminous August nights turns silent, almost as if time stands still in a
long icy moment.
Just a few loving couples stroll through the city
galleries, wrapped in warm scarves that colour the grey winter days. Words
produce clouds of white breath, each step leaves a footprint in the snow, and
the sweet smell of hot chocolate floats among the bar tables set out with
laughter and crumbs.
And while the earth stands still to follow the inescapable
cycle of the seasons, people are suspended in expectation; in expectation of a
ray of sunlight, a warm place on a freezing day, ice melting and making way for
a new spring.
It is here that the photographer penetrates the quietness of a long winter, to capture Nature that although
attractive is an enemy for humans. His approach is silent so that it does not
disturb the peaceful harmony interrupted only by the rare chirping of a bird
and the frantic flow of traffic in the distance.
And then, unexpectedly the snow begins to fall heavily
in a cloudy turbine of crystals. Going through the deserted boroughs children’s
faces can be seen at the windows as they contemplate the snow fairies. Like a
village decorated for a feast, every stone, every roof, every road is festooned
with fine icy lace; silence falls as it can only on snowy evenings. And while
fires crackle in homes behind closed doors, night prepares to drop below zero
and transform those soft flakes into beautiful
multiform crystals.
When the sun returns once again to illuminate the cold
hills and misty plains, the landscape that appears before the curious
photographer looks as if it has been taken from a dust-covered book of fairy
tales.
Every step is accompanied by that typically wintry
crunching sound and remains impressed on the ground, leaving a solitary trail
on an otherwise perfect scene. The cold pink of the first rays of morning sun
filters through the icy leaves, creating a magic game of reflections almost
unperceivable to the eye of bustling humans. And while coffee boils in the pot
and the bars offer crisp warm brioche, the day slides slowly by, to the rhythm
of women hurrying to the market and children’s cries as they scuffle with each
other in the school playgrounds.
In the meantime the clock ticks on and the magic of
winter soon disappears and will be forgotten. Drop by drop the enchantment of
snow fairies will melt in a nagging tick tock from roof gutters; the hills will
bloom again and people’s voices will echo through the fields and town squares.
And of those enchanted moments only a photo will
remain.
Claudia Vidor
