<b>Storie di confine_Critical Zones</b> // Historias de confines_Zonas críticas

Authors

  • Christian Arpaia

DOI:

https://doi.org/10.37536/ECOZONA.2016.7.2.1100

Abstract

I took these pictures while travelling on my motorbike in Southern Italy. Except for the first two (“Caged_N,” a view of Naples from behind the bars of an ancient cloister now hosting one of the city’s universities; and “Ashes,” a view of Naples’ Città della Scienza), they were all taken in the summer. Summer, in fact, is the season during which contrasts and colors are most powerfully sublimated against these lands’ vast horizon, disclosing sceneries made of abandonment, forgetfulness, and stubborn elemental creativity. This is the fate of the South: to be alive in spite of everything, in spite of bad politicians and of colonizations disguised as (short-term) “development” policies. Though, this being alive conveys very much the weight of a problematic life, which is often a struggle against the challenges of space_time_matter. Or, even worse, against the violence of organized crime, as in the case of “Ashes,” given to the flames in 2013 and now slowly resurrecting.

Defined by environmental economist Manlio Rossi Doria “la terra dell’osso,” the bone land, the internal territories of the South survive in their elemental combinations, crisscrossed by huge (and often disproportionate) infrastructures that remain often “cathedrals in the desert” (like the majestic Musumeci’s Bridge, portrayed in the picture “Minimo Strutturale”) and by building developments that cover catastrophic events (in this case, the earthquake of 1980) with abstract—and therefore equally catastrophic—solutions (“Piano Regolatore”). In this silent landscape, testimonies from the territory’s “original characters” take not only the shape of abandoned agrarian houses (“Agrarian Reform”), but also that of the surprising inventiveness of ancient ways to create the built environment. This is the case of Basilicata’s historic town Matera (“Matera”), that, from being a site of backwardness and abandonment, has turned today into a UNESCO World Heritage Site and will be the European Capital of Culture in 2019.

 

Resumen

      Hice estas fotografías mientras viajaba en mi moto por el sur de Italia. Salvo por las dos primeras (“Caged_N,” una vista de Nápoles desde detrás de las rejas de un antiguo claustro que ahora acoge una de las universidades de la ciudad; y “Ashes”, una vista de la Città della Scienza de Nápoles), todas se hicieron en verano. El verano, de hecho, es la estación durante la que los contrastes y los colores se subliman más poderosamente contra el vasto horizonte de estas tierras, revelando paisajes hechos de abandono, olvido, y terca creatividad elemental. Este es el destino del Sur: estar vivo a pesar de todo, a pesar de los malos políticos y de las colonizaciones disfrazadas de políticas de “desarrollo” (a corto plazo). Sin embargo, este estar vivo expresa mucho el peso de una vida problemática, que a menudo es una lucha contra los desafío del espacio_tiempo_materia. O, incluso peor, contra la violencia del crimen organizado, como en el caso de “Ashes,” entregado a las llamas en 2013 y ahora resucitando lentamente.

      Definida por el economista medioambiental Manlio Rossi Doria  como “la terra dell’osso,” la tierra del hueso, los territorios internos del Sur sobreviven en sus combinaciones elementales, entrecruzados por infraestructuras enormes (y a menudo desproporcionadas) que permanecen a menudo “catedrales en el desierto” (como el majestoso puente de Mudumeci, retratado en la imagen “Minimo Strutturale”) y por desarrollos de construcción que cubren sucesos catastróficos (en este caso, el terremoto de 1980) con soluciones abstractas—y por lo tanto igualmente catastróficas—(“Piano Regolatore”). En este paisaje silencioso, los testimonios de los “personajes originales” del territorio toman no sólo la forma de casa agrícolas abandonadas (“Agrarian Reform”), sino también la de la sorprendente inventiva de las formas antiguas de crear el entorno construido. Este es el caso de la histórica ciudad de Basilicata, Matera (“Matera”), que, de ser un lugar de atraso y abandono, se ha convertido hoy en Patrimonio Mundial de la UNESCO y será la Capital Europea de la Cultura en 2019.

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Author Biography

Christian Arpaia

Christian Arpaia, architetto e fotografo, nasce a Pompei nel 1969. Ha lavorato a Napoli, Milano, Venezia collaborando a progetti di prestigiosi architetti tra cui Renzo Piano e Rem Koolhaas. Collezionista di luoghi, lettore appassionato e navigatore a vela, pratica la mountain bike estrema e cerca orientarsi con le stelle.

Christian Arpaia (Pompeii, 1969) is an architect and a photographer. He has worked in Naples, Milan, and Venice, collaborating in projects directed by prestigious architects such as Renzo Piano and Rem Koolhass. A collector of places, a passionate reader, and a sailor, he's a practitioner of extreme mountain biking and tries to orient himself to the stars.

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Published

2016-10-25

Issue

Section

Creative Writing and Arts