CNN
–
Every summer, the remote Italian island of Alicudi attracts a steady stream of tourists looking to escape the trappings of modernity. There are no cars or roads outside the two-square-mile volcano, although footpaths are passable by donkeys. And while cell phone coverage is now available in most places, many homes lack electricity and water.
For the islanders, of whom there are about 100 (and whose numbers drop sharply in winter), the rest of the year is remarkably remote.
Without a hospital, residents must travel by ferry — or, in an emergency, helicopter — for medical treatment. The island’s school is reportedly closed due to a lack of children, according to Italian photographer Camilla Maris, who visited Alicudi to document daily life there during the Covid-19 pandemic. And while there are two grocery stores and a bar that can be found together, the latter is only open three months of the year.
“For the rest of the year, the big social gathering is going to the pier when the boats come in — they just go there to see who’s coming and who’s leaving,” Maurice told CNN in a Zoom interview with his partner. ” Colleague Gabriele Chaparini, who added: “Some of the houses are a two-hour drive from the pier, so they look through binoculars.”
Hoping to capture a rare image of the island and its inhabitants during the winter, Maurice and Chiaparini spent a total of two months exploring Alicudi, photographing its nature and befriending its inhabitants. The resulting book, “Think like an island,” brings together stark portraits and landscape shots that speak to a deep sense of loneliness.
Alicudi may have been populated as early as the 17th century BC, although migration in both directions – including the departure of islanders to the Italian mainland and especially Australia – has seen its demographics change significantly in recent decades. Maurice described the current population as “many islands within the same island”—a combination of long-term natives (some of whom humorously referred to themselves as “indigenous”) and outsiders who had settled in Europe. They have gone in search of solace elsewhere. life
“We talked to a lot of people who chose this island because they are tired of how the world is going now: climate change, pollution, the way we grow vegetables or our economic system,” he said. Chiapparini said.
Yet, the couple also discovered a unique sense of community despite the lack of meeting places or shared social spaces.
“All the houses are spread out, so it’s very difficult to create a sense of community,” Marais said. “Of course, there’s a great sense of connection; everyone knows each other and is willing to help each other. I think the bond they have is really tight. At the same time, it’s (a microcosm of) Society has the best and the worst, as there are many unnecessary conflicts and petty (acts of) revenge.
Maurice compares living with islanders to life in a condo: “You don’t like your neighbors, but when there’s a storm, you go down (to the water) and take everybody’s boats up.” And you help each other.”
Photographers found that the mindset of the islanders, perhaps due to the transient nature of its seasonal population, made it easy for them to quickly gain trust and convince people to take pictures.
“They’re used to making strong connections very quickly – to social situations and making strong relationships. And they’re also used to seeing people leave, dealing with this turnover of people and the fact that things don’t go anywhere. are not permanent in any way.”
Portraits in “Thinking Like an Island” show islanders in nature or standing on the beach under ominous skies. Their names are often omitted, while some subjects’ faces are completely blurred to protect their privacy.
This adds to the sense of mystery surrounding the island, which is rich in local folklore. In fact, Maurice and Chiaprini’s book does not even explicitly identify the place by name, although anyone familiar with topography and mythology will immediately recognize it as Elicudi. (A remote island in the Aeolian peninsula, in the Tyrrhenian Sea north of Sicily, recently made headlines after being overrun by goats, outnumbering people six to one.)
And an interesting bit of local history is unique to the island: its accidental production of hallucinogenic bread.
Until the 1950s, locals ate bread contaminated with a rye fungus called ergot, the main ingredient in LSD. Generations of villagers unknowingly ate the so-called “mad rye” or “horned rye”, which may be the source of various local legends, such as the flying women (or “maara, which means “witches” in Aeolian dialect). ” is) occupying the skies above Alicudi.
“There are many legends that have been passed down from generation to generation,” said Maurice. “And that could actually have been a moment of delusion that was shared by all the islanders who ate this bread every day.”
Maris and Chiaprini also explore other parts of the island’s culture, such as the annual procession featuring a statue of Saint Bartolo and traditional practices such as weaving and caper harvesting. Despite the harsh economic realities, he was at pains to portray Alikodi as neither a utopia nor a dystopia. But relatively small levels of tourism have also changed the island’s fortunes.
Many residents moved from the top of the island down to the ocean, and now most young people work in construction, renovating or building houses to rent in the summer, photographers say.
“It was very, very poor,” Maurice said. “Until the second half of the last century, the economy was mainly agriculture and fishing… then electricity came (in the 1990s), tourism came and money came – and everything suddenly changed.”
Island Power
As well as shooting traditional portraits, Chiapparini and Marrese – who both took photos for the book – turned their lenses on the island itself. The rugged topography of Alicudi, with its sculpted rock faces and steep crags, becomes one of the main characters of his book.
The pair were particularly interested in the impact this geography had on the islands, as it apparently shaped their outlook and character. “I think being on an island makes you grow physically and psychologically,” Marais said, noting the ease with which residents navigate the island in the dark of night.
“Living like that really permeates them and shapes them… They’re very connected to the rhythm of the sun going up and the sun going down,” he added.
The experience also left its mark on Chiapparini and Marrese, both of whom reported a strong personal connection to the island. The couple keeps in touch with many of the residents, and they say their experiences left them with a greater, lasting appreciation for the simple life.
“We went back this summer, and when I’m there, I think, ‘Why don’t we live here?’ said Maurice. “Then, actually, we (realize we) don’t really want to be there, but have a very, very strong bond with you.
“Ideologically, what stays with you is that there’s not just one way you have to live – there are many different ways,” he added. “They may have pros and cons, and be very different from you. But they (islanders) are fine with that.
“Think like an islandPublished by Overlaps, available now.
