The winner of the three-time World Press Photo on his current work: “I don’t care about the photography. I care about what a person discovers beyond my photos.”
Read the interview.
Giulio Di Sturco is one of Italy’s most prominent documentary photographers. Through his lens, he’s told stories from around the world. His “gaze” possesses the extraordinary ability to make viewers pause and ask themselves, “What am I looking at?”
We meet with him via video call. He’s connected from his studio in Arles, the European capital of photography. The encounter is digital, but with Giulio, the conversation feels instantly genuine and grounded. Perhaps it’s because it’s August. It’s hot, and we’re all a bit more relaxed, or perhaps it’s his Ciociaro accent. Either way, we feel immediately at home. And not just any home, but the home of a master in international photography. We take advantage of the moment and delve right in with a question that leads us catapults us into his life.
Q. What did we interrupt with this call, Giulio?
A. I’ll give you two answers, one less formal and one more formal. The first is that my wife and my 4-year-old daughter went on vacation, so I was enjoying the silence and solitude (he laughs). No, actually, I’m editing a book on a project I’ve just finished… Well, I’m not sure if it’s really finished, but it needs to be organized. It’s a project about airport cities (note: the project is Aerotropolis) I started it in 2014. Now I’ve printed all the photos and I’m selecting them. Then, a contemporary art curator will help me piece it all together. You know, on long-term projects, an external perspective is crucial. It always seems to me that something is missing, but that’s not necessarily the case…
Q. That’s great news! But before we talk about the future, let’s go back to the very beginning. When did you realize you would become a photographer?
A. I come from four generations of photographers. I’m from Roccasecca near Cassino, a town in the lower Lazio region. During the famous Battle of Monte Cassino, my great-grandfather took photos of soldiers fleeing the war. Then, my grandfather and my parents continued the tradition: they had a portrait studio in town. But in those days, as per the norm, I ruled out the possibility of following in their footsteps. Then I went to study at IED in Rome, and that’s where I met Angelo Turetta. He’s one of Italy’s most important documentary photographers and a renowned scene photographer. He has an energy, a way of immersing you in stories, in a reportage, that I really liked. He was the light that illuminated everything.
Q. Do you remember your first documentary project?
A. Of course! After school, I moved to Canada. Back then, “city portraits” were in fashion. I wandered around and took photos, while also working with an Italian wedding photographer in Toronto. I saw these absurd weddings and explored the city. But instead of “city portraits,” I was essentially documenting my own experience… When I returned home, I put the work together and, quite unexpectedly, sold it to “Amica,” a magazine that featured a lot of reportages at the time. From there, I said, “Cool!” And I started going back and forth between Canada and the USA: I would go, take photos, come back, and sell the reportages. That’s how I eventually joined the Grazia Neri agency.
For me, a photographic project is like a movie: it needs a plot, it has to tell a story.
Q. You’ve always told stories with your photos. Why?
A. Yes, that’s right. I’ve never focused on pure news or events. I’ve never been able to think about a single photo. I’m not interested in the beauty of the photo itself. I’ve always wanted to piece together photos so they tell a story.
Q. Over the years, your stories have become increasingly “involved.” As a photojournalist, you’ve worked for many NGOs, various United Nations agencies, and numerous humanitarian organizations. How did that happen?
A. It happened because at a certain point in my life, I moved to India. For me, that’s where my real career began. At that time, India was experiencing a massive economic boom. Everyone wanted stories about India, and I had become somewhat known as “the Southeast Asian photographer.” I started working with The New York Times and National Geographic, and from there, collaborations with Médecins Sans Frontières, Amnesty International, Save the Children, and some United Nations agencies began. It was through some of those projects that I met Blossom, by the way… Back then, I was shooting in black and white with a very dramatic style.
Q. Today, your work still revolves around social issues, but you’ve completely changed your approach to photography. Why?
A. While in India, I began to feel like I was telling the same stories over and over again. It might have worked for me, as I already knew which photos resonated and how to support the work of many NGOs. But I was afraid of going on autopilot. So, at that moment, I decided to look for other ways to address the same issues.
At a certain point in my career, I decided to seek a different, more metaphorical language.
Q. Is that how your Gang Ma project was born?
A. Yes, exactly. At the time, I was interested in climate change, and the Ganges River forced me to change my approach to reportage. Before, I would be in the midst of Kashmir during a war, where everything (too much!) happened right in front of me. In this case, I was positioned on the Ganges where nothing was happening. It wasn’t enough to set up the camera and capture everything going on around me. I had to find the right way to tell my story, my idea.
Q. Why did you feel such a strong need to find a new aesthetic?
A. Because I felt that new images were needed to shake up people’s thoughts. When talking about water pollution, for example, all the photos used to show plastic bottles in the water. I felt like that approach was no longer effective. We needed a more delicate, less explicit way to convey the message. Or rather, that’s what I wanted to do. So, Gang Ma was born, where pollution is what makes the photos aesthetically beautiful. Anyone can be drawn to these photos because of their colors and compositions, but it takes a moment to realize that the beauty of the colors is due to pollution. It’s certainly less immediate photography, but for me, it’s more powerful. Because it’s not finished; it leaves room for interpretation first, and reflection later.
Unfinished photography is not disposable. It takes more time, but for me, it’s more powerful.
Q. From the way you describe it, it sounds more like contemporary art than documentary photography. Do you agree?
A. I’m not sure… Perhaps now my photography lies somewhere between documentary and fine art photography… But these are just definitions. In any case, I come from documentary photography, from “real things.” I always want to show you something real. The difference is that today, I want to take something real and transport you to another dimension. But that doesn’t mean it’s not social or political photography.
Q. Is this what you’re pursuing in your current projects as well?
A. Yes, for me, that’s still the focus. The thing is, I don’t want to say whether something is right or wrong anymore. We’re surrounded by people passing judgments without real knowledge, and today it’s impossible to know everything. That’s why I prefer unfinished photography. Because it represents a “reality” that may be unknown, perhaps is still in its infancy, and brings it to people’s attention.
Let me give you an example: when I exhibit my airport city projects (the most recent one was in Padova), some people react very strongly, saying, “This is hell on earth!” Others are attracted and fascinated by them. That’s because they’re fake, constructed cities, but their architecture is futuristic, so they hold a certain beauty, giving the idea of a functional city. Opposite reactions to the same photo.
Q. How do your current projects come about? What sparks your curiosity today?
A. Well, looking at my projects with a bit of perspective, I realize that I’m working on the future and on solutions that might become the norm in twenty, thirty, or a hundred years. Airport cities are places where we might live in the future: cities where the airport is at the center, and everything revolves around it; a structural change that is anthropological. The pediatrics department in Bristol, where I’m about to shoot a documentary video, saves premature babies at 22 weeks who had no chance of survival twenty years ago. Then there’s the space project, and on standby, another one about transhumanism featuring a series of photos of humanoids I shot in China… Anything that pushes the boundaries of the foreseeable future, in other words. I would say I’m doing science fiction, but with photos of real things.
Q. Do you have a photo you are particularly attached to?
A. One? No, no… Because photography bores me…
Q. Can I write that down? Watch out, Giulio, I’m going to use it as a headline if you say that…
A. (laughing) And that’s how I stopped working… No, but it’s true! Photography itself is just a tool. I’m much more interested in the concept, the idea, the project. And you know what else? Every time I shoot, for example, for the space project, I think I’ve taken the best photo of my life. Then I come back, take more photos, and I like those even more. In short, when I take the perfect photo it will be time to retire.
Q. What do you enjoy looking at instead? Where do you find your inspiration?
A. Can I make another strong comment? (he laughs) I’m not interested in photography. I don’t look at it anymore.
Q. Getting better and better, I’d say… What do you mean?
A. No, seriously, I look at very little photography because I know it stays in my mind, and then, even unconsciously, I might end up reproducing things that have already been done. So, I prefer to look elsewhere. I read a lot of science fiction, watch a lot of TV series, view a lot of art: the surrealists, the futurists, and De Chirico are a great source of inspiration.
Q. Does photography have power for you?
A. Well… that’s one of the big questions about photography. If you had asked me ten years ago, I would have told you that photography changes the world, that we reporters give a voice to those who don’t have one, etc… The truth is, I don’t believe that anymore. Now I don’t want to change anything.
Q. So why do you do it, if I may ask?
A. Because photography gives me the opportunity to enter places that would be inaccessible. Because it allows me to bring out an idea and engage in a dialogue with the people who view it. Because, in any case, photography has great value, what I call “static force,” because it demands time from those who look at it and forces them to reflect, to ask questions. For me, today, this is stronger than saying, “Look, there’s a war here: these are the good guys, and those are the bad guys.” I believe a photo can say (or not say) much more than that.
Q. Your future dream?
A. To continue doing what I do, with the freedom with which I’m doing it. Because I do have to say, I’m happy with everything I’ve done: the awards, the people I’ve worked with, the works, the books… I can only be happy because I’ve been truly fortunate in life…
To be a photographer, you need a lot of curiosity and intelligence, and a lot of luck.
Q. When were you lucky?
A. The first World Press Photo was a total stroke of luck!
Q. You really didn’t expect it?
A. Absolutely not. I was 25 years old. I only submitted the entry because a friend had insisted. I didn’t want to send it… And yet, I won. Back then, such a victory was the equivalent of an Oscar; so, it certainly changed the course of my life… I’d be ungrateful if I said otherwise.
Luck or not, what’s certain is that since that day, Giulio Di Sturco has won many more awards. Over the years, he’s never stopped seeking new stories and different ways to tell us what’s happening in the world. Amid light and dark, problems and innovations, his perspective is a precious one that enlivens curiosity and understanding. Because sometimes, communicating isn’t about providing the answers, it’s about asking the right questions.
