Ci sono opere nell’ arco di tutta la storia dell’ Arte, che divengono emblematiche per piccoli scherzi, minuscoli particolari, arguti trompe l’ oeil: è il caso per esempio del celeberrimo quadro dei “ Coniugi Arnolfini” di Jan Van Eyck, dove il dipinto di genere, apparentemente incentrato sulla coppia in primo piano di mercanti- committenti fiamminghi che lo richiese, ha il suo vero fuoco nello specchio alle loro spalle, dove essi, ripresi da dietro e leggermente deformati dalla visione convessa, appaiono in piccolo, per svelare allo spettatore la visione completa, e riflessa, della stanza in cui i due sposi si trovano, cogliendo appieno la dualità della Realtà circostante con i suoi dettagli e i suoi chiaroscurali, la sua metafora della doppiezza della Vita, l’ algida e rigida normalità dei coniugi, e la vivacità minuziosa degli oggetti intorno ad essi.
Se è dunque vero ciò che dicono i pellerossa, che la fotografia “ruba” un frammento dell’ anima del fotografato, dobbiamo convenire che Carmela Cipriani, un po’ per gioco, un po’ per caso, e un po’ per il grande amore che porta a Venezia, ha voluto, con la sua tecnica nuova che però ripropone istintivamente stilemi antichi, prendere per sé un barlume dello Spirito di Venezia, per potersela guardare quando è a Milano, per potersela sognare come la ricorda da bambina, per potersela anche “gustare”- giacché Carmela di piatti raffinati se ne intende- a piccoli sorsi nella complessità sfaccettata delle sue riprese.
La Venezia di Carmela non è la città...
In the whole range of History of Art, there are some artworks that have become emblematic for some little tricks, subtle particulars, wise trompe l’ oeil: this is the case of the extremely famous painting made by Jan Van Eyck for the “Arnolfini Couple”, where the artwork created to immortalize a couple of merchants in their everyday life, has its real focus in the convex mirror at their shoulders, where they appear in a very tiny image, to unveil to the observer the complete, reflexed vision of a room in which the two are posing, catching in its very sense the duality of the Reality in which they are into, with all the details and every part of darkness and light, the metaphoric meaning of Life, the cool, compassed normality of the couple, and the highly refined vivacity of the objects around them
If the native people of America, Lakota, and Cherookee, and others, are right, the photographic art ‘steals’ a little hint of soul from the photographed subject; and in this case, we must admit that Carmela Cipriani, maybe for playing, maybe for fate, and maybe for the great love she shares for Venice, has tried, with her new technique totally base on instinct, but remotely rememberin of ancient rules, to catch for herself a glimpse of Venice’s Spirit, to contemplate it when she is in her flat in Milan, to dream about it as she did when she was a child, to “taste” it, also, since Carmela is a real expert of what ‘taste’ is, due to her family’s legacy in the globally known ‘ Harry’s Bar’, as if Venice is glass of wine to...
As a child I read about my city, Venice, but it was as though I was hearing about a completely different Venice to the one I knew and felt inside my soul. My Venice was full of smaller details, full of continuous discoveries. We
didn’t have a playground, Venice was our playground.
My first playmate for enjoyment was a bridge; the one nearest home. Dozens of steps to run up and down and banisters to slide down on our bottoms, straddled, legs either side. From the top of the bridge we could see the boats coming and going. When bows disappeared, sterns came into view.
My second friend was the canal.
During the long afternoons a fishing rod was allowed, doing nothing more
than casting the line up and down the ‘Fondamenta’ (pedestrian bank of the canal) continually turning the reel to see if we had caught anything.
The best game was Hide and Seek.
Under entrances, inside the alleys, behind the wells, the columns, at the fountains....with heartbeats going crazy and ears pinned attentively.
I never got lost; I had a thousand reference points.
Then there were roofs, chimneys and turrets. From a high vantage point there was another city – all pink and red – different. To be on a turret was like being on a magic carpet, ready to touch the sky together with the cats. Freedom. I breathed air and freedom. I never felt the fear of getting lost. We held Venice in the palm of our hands.
We played long hours with water and in water. With played with stones and on stones. We pressed other people’s house bells, all had a particular shape, but mostly...
<i>A VENETIAN MIND</i><span>Read</span>