The Misunderstanding
The Misunderstanding
Giuilio Rimondi
March 2, 2016
After living abroad for a number of years, photographer Giulio Rimondi returned to Italy. But what does his homeland look like nowadays? Rimondi sets out in search of his first love, discovering himself along the way. “In the end, I realized I had put together a patchy portrait of the country.”
Rimondi’s Italiana series in now due to appear as a book. To make this possible, the photographer has launched a crowd funding campaign. You can find more information about the project here: www.kickstarter.com.
Behind this picture lies a special episode from Rimondi’s journey through his homeland:
“I arrive in Naples and meet Carmine. He tells me that a friend of his hangs out at Le Vele, the city’s most infamous neighbourhood. In less than no time we make arrangements for the next day. I’m a little nervous. I have to meet his friend, Valerio, at 4pm in front of the Vela Rossa, a crumbling building under the control of Camorra, and the hub of the whole Neapolitan crime scene. I get there on time and there’s no trace of Valerio. I wait for one hour leaning against a lamppost looking as ferocious as I can to deter some kids who are throwing stones from time to time.
By the time Valerio arrives my heart is in my mouth. We go inside the Vela Rossa and he starts talking to a guy and forgets about me. I look around, then decide to explore a long hallway strewn in syringes and bloodstains. An addict with the face of a dead man is lying in a corner. I’m about to go back when a guy shows up from behind a pillar, shouts something in thick Neapolitan and comes at me. We begin to fight, then I see a blade come out of the guy’s pocket. “Valerio for Christ’s sake come here! Run!” I scream.
The guy makes a strange face and the knife disappears. Then he opens his arms wide, hugs me, kisses me twice and scolds me softly: “Come on man, you should have told me immediately that you’re with Valerio! Let me see the damage I’ve done,” he says, grabbing my torn shirt. “Man, you should have told me you’re a bro immediately! Here you go.” He takes off his sweat-soaked shirt and gives it to me, revealing a colossal belly. I tell him it’s not a problem and that I’m happy we clarified the misunderstanding, but he insists: “It’s an original, an Ugo Bosse. Take it!”. So I wear it and he wears mine, which is ripped up and doesn’t cover half his belly, while his shirt reaches my knees. Then we walk back along the hallway like old friends to join Valerio, who is still chatting and hasn’t noticed anything.”
Rimondi’s Italiana series in now due to appear as a book. To make this possible, the photographer has launched a crowd funding campaign. You can find more information about the project here: www.kickstarter.com.
Behind this picture lies a special episode from Rimondi’s journey through his homeland:
“I arrive in Naples and meet Carmine. He tells me that a friend of his hangs out at Le Vele, the city’s most infamous neighbourhood. In less than no time we make arrangements for the next day. I’m a little nervous. I have to meet his friend, Valerio, at 4pm in front of the Vela Rossa, a crumbling building under the control of Camorra, and the hub of the whole Neapolitan crime scene. I get there on time and there’s no trace of Valerio. I wait for one hour leaning against a lamppost looking as ferocious as I can to deter some kids who are throwing stones from time to time.
By the time Valerio arrives my heart is in my mouth. We go inside the Vela Rossa and he starts talking to a guy and forgets about me. I look around, then decide to explore a long hallway strewn in syringes and bloodstains. An addict with the face of a dead man is lying in a corner. I’m about to go back when a guy shows up from behind a pillar, shouts something in thick Neapolitan and comes at me. We begin to fight, then I see a blade come out of the guy’s pocket. “Valerio for Christ’s sake come here! Run!” I scream.
The guy makes a strange face and the knife disappears. Then he opens his arms wide, hugs me, kisses me twice and scolds me softly: “Come on man, you should have told me immediately that you’re with Valerio! Let me see the damage I’ve done,” he says, grabbing my torn shirt. “Man, you should have told me you’re a bro immediately! Here you go.” He takes off his sweat-soaked shirt and gives it to me, revealing a colossal belly. I tell him it’s not a problem and that I’m happy we clarified the misunderstanding, but he insists: “It’s an original, an Ugo Bosse. Take it!”. So I wear it and he wears mine, which is ripped up and doesn’t cover half his belly, while his shirt reaches my knees. Then we walk back along the hallway like old friends to join Valerio, who is still chatting and hasn’t noticed anything.”
Giuilio Rimondi+-
Born in Italy in 1984, Rimondi studied literature and history of art. In his photo reportages he focusses primarily on social phenomenon and problems in the Mediterranean region. His photo journalist work has been published in the New York Times Lens, Le Monde, Repubblica and other European and Middle Eastern magazines. More