… everything returns to normal and nothing is left on the beach except for one single forgotten bone.
This is from the essay ‘Italian Landscape’ 1989 found in The Complete Essays 1973-1991 by Luigi Ghirri (2016):
… My Italian Landscape photographs came into being for different reasons and purposes, but in the end I saw that they were linked by a common connecting thread: a leitmotif that traverses themes, spaces, and objects as if chance and disconnected narration had mysteriously discovered its logic. I realized that it was useless to adopt a different way of organizing the materials which might suggest other paths; I preferred instead to mix up the cards, tracking down other glances deposited and hidden in some corner of my head.
Next is from ‘The Impossible Landscape’ 1989:
… Lining them up one after another, these places form a sort of strange sequence consisting of stones, churches, gestures, lights, fogs, frost-covered branches, blue seas; they become our impossible landscape, without scale, without a geographic order to orient us; a tangle of monuments, lights, thoughts, objects, moments, analogies from our landscapes of the mind, which we seek out even unconsciously every time we look out a window into the openness of the outside world, as if they were the points of an imaginary compass that indicate a possible direction.
Finally, from ‘View From the Car Window’ 1990. This was a review of a book of photographs by Giuliano Grossi (whom I can’t find via Google):
… In one of his short stories, [The Drowned Giant], Ballard writes about the skeleton of an enormous and unknown animal, inexplicably washed up near a small town on the Atlantic. The unusual size of the carcass attracts people from the surrounding towns, who, once their amazement and fears have subsided, slowly draw closer to this outsider, this ‘Gulliver,’ and start to take it to pieces, collecting the bones to make bar signs or monuments or garden sculptures. Soon, everything returns to normal and nothing is left on the beach except for one single forgotten bone.
And yet, here in Grossi’s pictures there are no ‘souvenirs’ with which to decorate homes but fragments of reality that constitute a vision; it’s a bit like a car journey when we overtake a lorry or are overtaken in return and a succession of diverse images appear framed in the side window: sections of wheels, mudguards, logos, painted mountains, sacred images, colored lines, names and words, and all this alongside allusions to the lorry’s cargo: mountains of newspapers, boxes, biscuits, pianos, chickens, cars, cans and sandwiches — appearing like a photographic sequence in its own right.
by Luigi Ghirri