Mattia Compagnucci Mattia Compagnucci

What a weekend in Porto taught me

I came to Porto for a weekend with two goals in mind: (1) to have my first solo trip fully focused on photography, and (2) to allow some space for my mind to wander and reflect.

I need space for reflection. I often make the mistake of obsessing over a question, continuously ruminating and searching for an answer—but that’s not how the mind works best. What works best is to prompt your mind with a question and then do something else, allowing the mind the space to come up with an answer on its own. There’s a reason why the best ideas come in the shower or, less discussed, while sitting on the toilet.

The question I prompted myself with for this trip wasn’t an easy one: Why do I make photographs?

The answer came on the second day of photographing.

I’ve always framed what was visually appealing—perhaps because I’m a designer—but after the first day, I felt quite unfulfilled. Something was missing.

That changed on the second day. I walked out early in the morning to catch the best light, only to find the sky resembling the worst winter day in Berlin. As a night owl, waking up early doesn’t come naturally to me. Despite that, I was out with a different attitude, more open to what would unfold in front of me and more curious about life happening instead of just beauty happening. That’s when I engaged with a warm human being who was living on the street, taking care of his partner and a neighborhood cat. Spending some time speaking with him and taking portraits of that heartfelt moment was a unique experience. I also walked in a barber shop and met a man from southern Portugal visiting Porto after a long time, who could speak seven languages. It was nice to listen his travel adventures and the why behind so many languages.

These were just a few of the people I encountered and briefly connected with during those days in Porto.

And finally, I recognized the toll that tourism has on the city of Porto—a toll that became the silver lining that set the intention behind my camera: documenting a city heavily molded by tourism.

I will leave this topic for another time, as I might develop it further and deeper.

Going back to what I learned during those days, to answer my initial question: I photograph to tell stories and to connect with the people I cross paths with during my wanderings.

I’m grateful that this answer came from listening to my feelings rather than obsessing over finding an answer. In this way, I’m sure it resonates with me more than any fancy answer I could have thought up.

 

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Mattia Compagnucci Mattia Compagnucci

Editing and killing your darlings

Editing and sequencing, especially when you want to tell a story through photos, is hard. And heartbreaking at times.

I’m going through one of the final edits of the first issue of “Wandering Through Life”, a magazine dedicated to the places, lives, and stories I wander through. It will be the physical companion to this digital journal that will be released once in a while.

This first edition is dedicated to my trip to Istanbul with The Raw Society during their storytelling workshop. I’m super excited about how it’s coming out. It contains around 65 photos and 4 essays, and it was—and still is—a process of dealing with memories, feelings, and letting go of some of them.

Letting go is not something that comes naturally to me. I’ve already moved from a 40-page magazine without any writing to a 96-page one with 4 essays. And still, the story is shaping.

Last week, I was going through the latest version with Jorge, one of the two photographers running The Raw Society, and I was struggling to decide what to leave out. There were a few photos I really liked and wanted to share that weren’t really fitting.

From our conversation, I took away a guideline for these kinds of decisions. I just ask myself:

Is this photo/writing serving the story and the message I want to communicate?
Will the experience of the person who will flip through the pages be enriched if I include it?

That worked. After the call, I completely restructured one section with clear intention. Because, in the end, there should be an intention behind everything we put out there.

It’s still hard for me to press that delete button and let one of my darlings go, but now I do it a bit more lightheartedly. I’m sure those photographs will have their own life, but for now, they have to stay on my hard drive, on social media, or, like some of them, in this piece.

 

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Mattia Compagnucci Mattia Compagnucci

Taking snapshots of life

Berlin Ostkreuz station

I took this pic while rushing to the train yesterday. I loved how the composition looked, the tube in the foreground giving depth, and the person in the background framed by the concrete and the cables surrounding them. My eyes snapped while the escalator was taking me away from that moment.

I was questioning whether I should take out the camera or not, but then I just took the phone and snapped this moment.

Often wandering through cities, I see moments like that and miss the moment, thinking shall I take the camera from my bag?

I make the mistake of being more concerned about the tool with which I take pictures instead of capturing a moment that will never be in front of me as it is. At the end, phone, camera, film, whatever - the important is to catch that snapshot of life.

 

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Mattia Compagnucci Mattia Compagnucci

Berlin through a lens

Berlin is a second home to me. I lived there for eight years, and during this time, I loved the city, hated it and loved it again. I left since two years in favour of the warmer and sunnier Barcelona, but I still visit often for work reasons and to spend time with people I love.

Last week, I visited for the first time with the camera, and it was a great feeling to rediscover the city again. It also happened with my hometown, which I discovered again after I left when I was 24 — seeing places you were used to passing through with different eyes. Discover streets that you’ve never had the chance to cross. People, places and faces.

I must admit that Berlin is an easy model; it is easy to shoot in the city. The vast spaces, the variety of people, their backgrounds and lifestyles. It’s a one-of-a-kind bubble that attracts people who resonate with its mindset, mood, and soul.

As a visitor, I’m focusing on what I always appreciated about the city, ignoring what annoyed me.

And photography is the meaning of this rediscovery. It’s a sacred time for me, wandering through the city and discovering how it changed, morphed and adapted. I find this act as a kind of meditation mixed with life-watching training. Because, in the end, it’s not about the photos but the way of looking at the world, people and life. And it’s a catalyst mixing the being here and now with a more enhanced perception of your surroundings.

 

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Mattia Compagnucci Mattia Compagnucci

On digital relationships

This is my entry for February’s IndieWeb carnival.

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I think my first digital relationship was with the guy hosting this carnival, Manu. It was the result of a #followfriday - the good old days of Twitter.

I’ve always been an in-person person, but this has shifted my needs with time. Living in 5 different cities and 4 different countries left me with a widespread family (chosen and blood make no difference to me).

I had the luck of spending some time with Manu in person, but, as with most of my digital relationships, the connection is more scattered than daily. I tend to be present and physically connect more with the people around me.

With time, the family expanded and moved, making everything more chaotic. Sometimes, I miss replying to a message for days; I miss birthdays and several weddings.

Luckily, family is family, and every time we have the luck of sharing some time (digitally or in person), it is like we met the last time the day before, and this always felt magic to me. Meeting with someone and being puzzled because the last time we met was 3 years ago and feeling like we said goodbye the night before.

Lockdown had a significant impact on the meaning of digital relationships in me. In fact, living alone, screens were the only meaning of connection and belonging besides a canal walk with a friend and any now and then.

This still has an effect on me, especially continuing to work remotely. Belonging and connecting are battles between in-person and screen time. I struggle to balance digital and in-person interaction; as I push myself to live in the present, connecting with someone digitally lets me sometimes feel I’m not since I’m somewhere else with my mind. But that’s the only way to stay connected with some friends.

A middle ground I’m trying is to have rituals to share some quality time in person occasionally; I (luckily) love to travel and have the flexibility to work from wherever I want.

All in all, a relationship is always a relationship, whether digital or in person. The shared experience is what makes it special; it is what shapes the relationship; the medium you connect with is only a means to that.

 

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