October 2022

Presentation Saturday November 5th, 7 pm,

Lorenzo Castore 2001-2007 | Lack & Longing, published by L’Artiere

“In 2001, I was living in Rome and didn’t really know where to turn. I was 27 years old and I had been doing photography in my own way for some time already, but I wasn’t sure how it could turn into something more concrete. In the meantime, I was trying to gain experience, earn a bit of cash in any way possible, and improve my technique. I was going to Silesia in Poland regularly and spent long periods there. I was worried about the future, and the desire for change was pushing me elsewhere, so, I decided to move to Milan.

I was looking for a job, a starting point, for my identity in the adult world. I was torn between what my head was saying and the suggestions being made by the internal voice that I’ve always had an intense dialogue with: it talks to and guides me, and often some of the suggestions are quite scary because they have little to do with rationality. I used to think it was almost impossible to make a living out of photography on my own terms, but I wanted to try and didn’t have any better ideas. The ambition of absolute expressive freedom clashed with a certain sense of modesty that was restraining me from showing, without filters, my photography because I feared it could scare those who might have commissioned me for editorial work, and so editing my pictures was very complicated at that time. I didn’t have reference points in flesh and blood, I had formed myself through music and books, but I had not yet met a photographer with whom I could share a direction and a vision.  […]

The years spoken about in this volume were those of a great deal of photography — too much, useless even. Taken everywhere, in the street, in rooms, in bars, on trains, with strangers, with friends. Obsessive years guided by invisible forces, inside and outside of me. We know nothing.”

Lorenzo Castore

Hours and Infos

Saturday November 5th
Presentation at 7 pm

Leporello, Via del Pigneto, 162/e – Roma