Paul Raffaele is a journalist and writer.
He is the author of five books and has been defined 'one of the greatest journalists of our times' (Bernard Ohanian, Editorial Director, AAPR)
His latest book is 'Among the Great Apes' and it's been published in 2010.
Emiliano Santoro’s street photography signals the arrival of a major
new
talent. His black and white scenes pulsate with the cruel anonymity
of
today’s city life. Stark architectural lines that form
nondescript
buildings, bridges and streets capture the tiny human figures
within their
frames, pinned with a brutality like insects stuck by a
scientist onto a
display board in a museum. Santoro’s photos evoke an aching
loneliness where
humans have been brutalised into a mute acceptance of their
nothingness. It
is as much an invaluable early 21st century vision of city
life in Europe as
Henri Cartier-Bresson’s photos evoked a human passion of
people of his time
who had not yet been ground down by overbearing big
government, a pervasive
media, heartless capitalism and babbling call
centres. Where
Cartier-Bresson’s iconic photographs could immediately be
recognised as a
mid-20th century Paris that vibrantly celebrated its people’s
humanity as
they celebrated their city’s very big heart, Santoro’s cityscapes
show us
early 21st century city life anonymous, faceless people seen as
silent
shadows drifting across papier-mâché tableaus.
My favourite is the shot of a narrow cobblestone street empty save for a
figure at the top about to turn
the corner and disappear.
I saw it as a motif of life, the climb up a tough,
steep, rocky incline
through the decades until the end is very near, the person
about to disappear
around the corner only to reappear somewhere else as a
bronze container of
dust cemented into a remembrance wall with hundreds of
other bronze
containers or a jumble of bones secreted in a deep black hole
in a long line
of deep black holes
Another favourite is the embrace of two lovers not caring if the passing
world glimpses their intimacy while unaware that the passing world, seen as
an anonymous blurred person, neither male
nor female, slides by them
oblivious to their lust.
