Gary Stewart is a self-taught Scottish photographer, who has found the leitmotif of his life in street photography, specifically with images of Italy. In his new book: The Shadows of Venice: Street Photography from the Floating City, Gary exposes the textured contrasts that anchor Venice with centuries of history. With patience and an artist’s eye for light and shadow, Gary invites us into his world of hidden paths and somber corners. The people who populate Gary’s photos are undisturbed by his presence; they are intent on their own story, as we merely witness a few moments in the course of their lives. The images are evocative, inspiring us to wonder about loneliness, companionship, beauty, and intention amidst the stones of Venice.
“Leitmotif” is an evocative word to define your work. What is the leitmotif of your life?
I decided I should put a description of what leitmotif is at the start of my book. It’s described as “A recurring theme, associated with a particular person, place, or idea”. I liked that thought and decided to turn it in to my logo, turning the F in to a Fero da Prua from the prow of a gondola. I have had many hobbies and fixations, but the main recurring theme of my life has been my obsession with Venice and Italy.
Why Venice?
It started with Francesco’s Venice; a TV documentary made 20 years ago by Francesco Da Mosto. Everything the camera was pointed at was beautiful. For some reason I never actually thought I’d get to go. My first trip abroad was to Rome in October 2011 when I was 25, and I thought I should go to the capital first. I actually ended coming home early because I got so ill, could barely walk after the first couple of days, biblical thunderstorms, it wasn’t a good trip. But I had already booked Venice a few months later in January. After my first experience I was a bit trepidatious, but I went anyway. The first time I went, the hotel room I stayed in was basically a tiny broom closet. But I was in Venice, that was the main thing. It was a bit surreal, being in the place that I saw on Francesco’s documentary. I know “going to Venice” is hardly a unique experience, umpteen million people visit there every year. But I still think it’s the greatest place ever. It is unparalleled in its uniqueness. Almost every single inch of it is absolutely beautiful. I will never forget the very first time I approached Venice on the Alilaguna from the airport. It was quite a hazy day and as the boat got closer, the Campanile of St Marks slowly became more defined, and I was greeted with this city emerging from the water.
My favourite thing to do in Venice is walk around in the middle of the night in January. You have this iconic city almost entirely to yourself, utterly silent, utterly serene. The only thing you hear is the sound of your own footsteps and the water splashing against the side of the canals. One of the most famous cities in the world, a living museum of 1,600 years of history. And you can walk around it barely seeing another soul.
How did you arrive at your preference for “street” photography? What is it about the style that captivates you?
I had no intention of going out specifically to do street photography. It just occurred naturally in Venice. Not being a fan of crowds, I would wander the streets away from the main routes of Venice at random, knowing I couldn’t go too far astray since I’m on an island. I’d purposefully try to get lost to see where I would end up. Wandering down whichever alleyway looked the most interesting. As nice as it was photographing the empty streets was, I quickly found that it was much better to add context and perspective with a person somewhere in the photo.
Henri Cartier-Bresson had a book called The Decisive Moment. It turned out I really enjoyed the process of capturing candid moments of people on the streets. Waiting for just the right person to pass through just the right pool of light. For the right person to walk past a sotoportego at the right moment.
I didn’t find out about photographers like Fan Ho and Vivian Maier until afterwards. I’d see pictures on Instagram and think “that’s what I do, so that’s what it’s called”.
I’m probably irritating a few people by calling my style of photos street photography in the first place, but I don’t know what else to call it. A lot of street photographers stick cameras in people’s faces. Extreme and invasive portraiture. If I was interested in that sort of thing, I wouldn’t need to be in Venice to do it, that can be done anywhere. I don’t like it, and I don’t think it tells any story.
Although the people you capture often have their backs to us and are moving away from us, there is a compelling element of your work that invites us in. Is it your intention to offer us both ambiguity and precision?
There’s no point in being in Venice if you’re not going to showcase Venice. The people and the architecture of Venice are as important as each other. Many of my photos involve a lot of waiting around. I’ll see a scene that I want to make work, and I’ll stand there and wait until the right person walks through in the right place at the right moment. In that respect it takes a lot of precision, and a lot of luck. Occasionally there’ll be no other option than to see someone’s face, but I like the idea of the people in my photos being anonymous as much as possible. I want people to make up their own stories about who this subject is, where they’re going and what their life is. I particularly like the photos taken at night when the peoples’ movement blurs them to the point where they’re almost indistinguishable as people, like the photograph on the back cover of the book. I wanted the photos at night to almost have a feeling of ghosts, centuries of people who have wandered around the unchanged streets of Venice. Deciding I liked that concept I sometimes tried to introduce the feeling of blur and movement into daytime photographs, using an ND filter to blur the subjects and their movement.
How do you balance light and shadow in your photography?
When I was younger, I had that iconic 1920s photo of Grand Central Station in New York by Louis Faurer on my bedroom door, the one with the 5 beams of light streaming through the windows illuminating the static and blurry figures below. I’ve always loved that photo, and I think that must have planted a seed for what I try to do with light and shadow and influenced how I try to take street photos in Venice. The blend of the location and the people work to make an interesting photograph. Without the people my photos would have been good, but with the people it makes them much more compelling.
Since I always visit in January I am blessed with low sun and long shadows. The nature of Venice having such narrow streets and varied architecture, the light and shadows end up coming from all angles creating frames and compositions that can sometimes last for only a few minutes each day. A lot of it is luck, happening upon a scene at the right time of day and trying to make the most of it.
One of the greatest parts of Venice is her sotoportegos, the tunnels that transport you through the buildings to completely different views. They’re excellent for creating compositions of people emerging into the light or receding into the darkness. On page 79 there is a photograph where the sunlight was barreling down the street in front of the sotoportego creating this unbelievably bright golden glow that the couple are silhouetted against. It was taken on the 29 January at 10:12am, a few minutes either side of that and it wouldn’t have worked as well as it does. The place where that photo was taken is in Castello called the Court of Paradise, which I thought was quite apt. I don’t give my photos titles but that one would name itself.
The majority of your work is nuanced black and white, while the color photography in the book is saturated in brilliant hues. What are your criteria when shooting to decide how an image will be portrayed?
I’ll often go to black and white by default because I think it’s better able to bring out the contrast and the tones. I’m able to get more texture out of photos in black and white I think, being able to push the shadows a bit and make the image more dramatic. Changing the white balance helps a lot in black and white, that brings out more tone and textures, then when you convert back to colour the image is bright blue. Sometimes if an area is in shade and the colour is quite muted anyway then black and white just makes more sense. I think it helps you focus on the subject a bit more.
https://leitmotifgallery.com/shadows
Read more of JoAnn Locktov‘s Interviews and Articles on YtaliGlobal, and visit her website.
L’articolo Candid Moments of Luck and Beauty. Photographer Gary Stewart Talks About The Shadows of Venice: Street Photography from the Floating City proviene da ytali..
4uMagazine
