THE NEAPOLITAN DETOUR

Intro

When I enter Napels, I am instantly hit by an energy booth. I open the window of the car and scream "CIAO NAPOLI ". This city is vibrant, diverse and very beautiful. So are the inhabitants, that seem to be so lively, driving around with scooters, kissing, laughing in the streets perfectly lightened for my camera. My friends Marcello Pisu and Tommaso Sacchi, both italians, both curators are my companions on this adventure of only three days. In this time we get to see some great art, some beautiful people, that invite us home and we have some incredible Neapolitan Pizzas. When we hang out at our most favorite spot in Naples, Piazza Bellini, I get hit by the vibes of Darius and Marco, two very young, very fascinating guys, that decided to live a life beyond gender categories. We connect, we chat, we decide to meet up again to make a shoot in a church. All I can say is, that I will come back to Napoli soon to get inspired by the people and the amazing energy. Enjoy my trip as I did. Esra Rotthoff

From Marcello Pisu

There are few cities where life flows as intensely as in Naples, with the same incessant heartbeat of São Paulo and New York, where the blood of its descendants runs abundantly, the same strong DNA intertwined by passionate tribes looking for the generosity of a bless land, the wilderness of a cursed end. Spotting a svastika in the streets, she asked me “Are Neapolitans racists?”. I doubted for a second, searching for the many stories of intolerance coming mostly from the northern part of Italy, and I realised that most of the time, the Neapolitans are the ones to be victim of racism. I often wonder how wrong can be a world where the virtues of this ground, fertile of a beauty and flavours that humanity will never be able to generate again, can be a burden for a country, or a union of countries. In Naples you breathe the freedom of a city with the honesty of an old soul, the innocent pleasure to show admiration for people’s extreme elegance and obscene daringness, the creepiness of the satanic signs hidden in the magniloquent architecture of the churches and the statues of the saints, the ancient comfort of the private dwellings, the privilege to taste the original dishes replicated infinitely. You can also vibrate of the humanity of a church guard, who watches for you the door while you take a picture of a special couple of friends: the priest doesn’t fancy cross-dressing. In front of the Macchina delle Quarantore, a spectacular installation of light and gold invented to attract people to pray focused after the excesses of the Carnival, Marco and Dario are, and not just wear, their disguise. In this city where newborn children are blessed by feminine males called “femminielli”, but also where the same children often find more acceptable changing sex rather than living with the guilt to love another man, we witnessed the glow of two future prophets fallen from Uranus to Napoli.