Artist Blog

Every week an artist whose single image was published by Der Greif is given a platform in which to blog about contemporary photography.

mg class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-45238" src="https://dergreif-online.de/www/wp/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/guidomangialavori-portrait-571x400.jpg" alt="Guido Mangialavori - portrait by Benedetta Panisson" width="571" height="400" /> Today I would like to share with you a short story by the writer Guido Mangialavori, from his long series »Nostalgia dell'umano«. It's about a slightly cruel man experimenting slightly cruelty on children, it's about sea when sea is impossible, it's about our nostalgia of the human. Guido Mangialavori's world is one of the most beautiful ugly worlds that I have ever read. Nostalgia dell'umano. Mr. Volks meets Emanuela. Let's pretend, says Emanuela, that we are at the sea? I think that she has never even seen the sea. Let's pretend that there are seashels? Let's pretend that it is beautiful? I say, this studio is also beautiful. Let's pretend that, continues the child, it is hot and there is a beach? I don't see why: we are perfectly fine right here, too. Let's pretend there are boats? These are words which don't deserve my attention. Let's pretend we dive in the water? The little one lies down on the floor; she moves her body twisting and turning; she slides and sluding she reaches the center of the room. She remains there a tangled up mess. Look at yourself, I hiss, you lack any sort of dignity. Emanuela reemerges from the hardwood floor, she stares at me stolidly: let's pretend we are sunbathing? I don't even listen to her. Do whatever you want, I tell her, but stay away from my carpet. The saltiness would ruin it, I think. And what would you know of saltiness anyways. I keep an eye on her sideways. Emanuela is drawing with her hands absurd doodles in the air. Emanuela conducts an alienated existence. The childs insists: let's pretend there is a sand castle? Terraced, I think. Let's pretend I am a princess? I remain silent. Noble? Determined, I stand up: I face the silly visionary, looking at her straight in the eyes. I attack her: no you little nothing, you will never be anything in your life. Bewildered Emanuela sobs softly. Or rather, just a little bit. www.nostalgiadellumano.com www.pizzadigitale.it