Framing Emotion: Niccolò Parodi's Journey into Timelessness, Discomfort, and Self-Discovery
Niccolò Parodi interviewed by Marta Rosellini
In this insightful conversation with Italian-born Berlin-based photographer Niccolò Parodi, conducted by Marta Rosellini, readers are invited into the world of an artist whose connection with photography transcends the technicalities, delving deep into the realms of emotion and self-discovery. Niccolò's decade-long journey in capturing moments unfolds as a testament to a love that has weathered highs and lows, yet always burning brightly.
How would you introduce yourself to the reader?
I'm Niccolò and I've been taking pictures for 10 years, but I've always had a camera in my hands since I was a child. Photography is the biggest love I've ever had. Like any true love, it's had its ups and downs over the years, but the spark I had for it has never gone out. I've never been bored of going out and exploring what's around me, slowing down time and space and trying to frame what my restless mind sees.
Can you outline three key features of your work or approach?
I would say there are a few key points that I set, or at least I've realised I unconsciously try to follow. I always strive for meticulous attention to detail, the environment in my photographs needs to be clean and perfectly composed, almost as if it were an unreal situation. This connects to another aspect: I often experience a strange, uncomfortable feeling when I look at the final shot, and it's usually then that I feel most satisfied with my work. My goal is to create photographs that are timeless, avoiding following current trends. I want people to be unable to determine when the shots were taken, neither through the colours used nor the framing of the subjects. But I believe this is something that only time and others' perspectives will be able to determine.
Can you describe your connection with the photographic medium? How does it enable your self-expression and with which other artistic mediums do you currently use or aspire to use it in conjunction?
My connection with photography has always been one of the strongest sensations. A few months ago, for example, I visited an exhibition of Mary Ellen Mark's photographs. There were a few shots in particular that really caught my attention. I was so impressed by them that even today, when I close my eyes, I can still picture them perfectly. For me, photography is my primary means of self-expression. It's often tricky to express my thoughts, not just to others, but to myself as well. Words can sometimes fail to fully capture what lies within. However, through my process, which involves grabbing my camera and spontaneously going out to shoot, or editing previous shots, I am able to see the final result. It is at this point that I begin to understand the reasons behind its appearance. It's nice to go through my archive in chronological order, I can see (and I think you can too :) ) how what I wanted to express has changed over time: colours, composition, light and subjects.
As much as I love photography and the intense emotions it evokes, I try not to oversaturate my mind with other people's work. This approach makes me discover exceptional talents quite late and often makes me question myself, but I prefer it that way. Instead, I mainly take inspiration from other art forms, especially architecture and design. As a passive observer, it amazes me how buildings, spaces and objects can subconsciously evoke different emotional states in people through lines and curves. It was a revelation to learn that designers deliberately put people in a state of discomfort and anxiety through the placement of walls, tools, etc. I suppose it's not far from what I'm trying to achieve with my photography, but I feel it gives me much more drive and influence to live it that way.
When considering the importance of photographic theory, composition, and the like, how do they weight against the more instinctive spontaneity that arises from the urge to capture a photograph?
As someone who is self-taught, I'd say the best thing you can do is to get out there and to shoot. It's all about training, the more confident you are with the tool the easier and more natural the process will be. Forget all the technical and theoretical stuff. Forget about getting the best and most expensive camera. Just use what works best for you, get what gives you the best chance of not leaving your camera at home. Art is not about sharpness, fast autofocus, premium lenses and perfect technique. It's about conveying emotion. (...anyway, who am I to define what art is?!). But certainly when you tell a story, a feeling, by finding a balance between composition and spontaneity in the shot, that is what gives me goosebumps.
If you were to correlate your work with a color, sound, song, or book, what would that be?
Lately, I've been really connecting with Soft Blade's music. Violet, the singer and composer, is a Russian girl who's also a psychologist. She has this incredible talent to reflect the atmosphere and recent life in post-Soviet countries. The way she portrays the coldness, loneliness and mental struggles that affect these places, and the use of art to fight it, really moves me and resonates with who I am. Her music, with its harsh winter imagery, brutalist architecture and mix of lo-fi and experimental beats, creates a kind of discomfort where I weirdly find myself in. This feeling is not far from what I go through in my own creative process and I try to communicate it.
Can you discuss your relationship with the human figure and the spatial elements in your series?
That's a good question. I've never really thought about it. The more I think about it, the more I feel like I'm seeing people as part of the scene itself, rather than as pure individuals, and when I look back, I feel like they're made of cardboard. As if they were just part of the environment, as if there was a reason for them to be there at that moment. And yet they are key to me. I love to observe how people behave differently depending on the environment in which they find themselves.
Explore the origins of your shots in the series—what sensations and inspirations give rise to your photography?
My photography comes from my chaotic inner self, I think the perfect yet distopic look of them is the balance that most reflects my outer person and what's going on in my spiralling mind. I see my shots as intense and melancholic, as if this aesthetic research of strange perfectionism would deeply reflect what my mind is dreaming of, aware that it will never get there.
My preferred images are born in moments of weakness, serving as a channel for this inner pain that seems impossible to get rid of. As an attempt to give meaning and form to frustration and suffering.
I feel like my outer self is the complete opposite of my inner self, and I've found that photography is the best way to express what's going on inside, emotions that have somehow been locked up and it's painful for them to come out. It's like a thorn in your hand. It's painful when you play with it and it's painful when you remove it, but it's fine when you don't interact with it. But as soon as it comes out, you feel a lot better.
On this journey I've come to understand that emotions that are normally avoided and repressed can actually be healing if harnessed and articulated effectively. It's just a matter of acknowledging them and learning how to shape your life around them, turning those feelings into something of value for yourself and even better for others.