«AUF AUGENBLICKE DURFT ICH SAGEN: VERWEILE DOCH, DU BIST SO SCHON»
[J.W. Goethe - Faust]
But istants can't be staunched. And our job is the most gorgeous among illusions.
LUCA SOLA was born in Collestatte Piano (Umbria, Italy) in 1977. Documentary photographer, he studied Contemporary Literature at Perugia University and took the Photojurnalism Master Course at ISFCI in Rome. Professional photojournalist since 2009, his work is focused on social, humanitarian and geopolitical subjects with particular reference to Italy, Africa and Middle East. He is currently represented by Contrasto photo agency. He currently lives between Rome and Cairo.
His works appear in the main newspapers and magazines, both Italian and international such as Time Magazine, New York Times, Los Angeles Times, The Economist, Vanity Fair, Esquire Russia, SonntagsBlick, Internazionale, L'Espresso, Panorama, IL24, D - La Repubblica delle Donne, Io Donna, Gente, Cosmopolitan, The Observer, Daily Mail, The Indipendent, East. Among several national prizes won, he achieved the third prize at the Yonhap International Press Photo Awards 2011 in the category “Enhancement of International Peace” with his work about Libya revolution. His firs book, "LIBIA / Appunti di Guerra" (2012 Postcart Edizioni) is based on the same work. Solo and group exhibitions in Rome, NY, Paris, London, San Diego, Seul.
A SMILING HUMANITY WHO FELL TO THE GROUND AND CHIPPED A TOOTH
These are the words of a friend. I asked him what he saw when we had witnessed in the first days after the earthquake that hit the Italian region of Abruzzo in April 2009. It was my first time "on the field", the first time standing in front the pain of the other with a camera. Thinking back to my friend’s answer, I now realise that his words are suitable for any situation that puts me face to face with human suffering, be it a mourning or a protest. No matter if the pain was caused by the loss of a job, a broken promise or an unrecognized right; whether it is the consequence of a war or a famine. We need to ask ourselves where the smiling, sad, angry, selfish or caring man is hiding himself. That is the man we have to look for when the pain bursts out and shatters the suffocating bubble of normality, which has turned into a numbing cage in Western countries. Into a painkiller. As long as that man keeps hiding himself, I will continue to do my job. And if one day there’s no need for it anymore, I will be very happy to farm -as my granfather did before me- a beautiful potato field.