For the eighth episode of IN STUDIO, we headed to the Romolo area to meet documentary photographer Glauco Canalis. Impressed by his work and story, we decided to meet him and discover what led him to pursue this type of photographic research. Of Sicilian origin, Glauco Canalis was educated between Milan and England, studying first in Plymouth before moving to London. Here began his career as a photographer, primarily in the music world and occasionally in fashion and advertising. However, his personal projects are something else entirely. His approach is documentary. He’s interested in places and the people who inhabit them, delving deep into the nature of certain traditions, investigating Mediterranean architecture, and social contexts. Often, the places and communities he chooses are “on the margins,” and the resulting stories are raw and painful. «For this reason, as I immerse myself deeply in the projects, sometimes I need to find moments to step back because inevitably they weigh on me as well,» he explains. But let’s start the interview to understand how a nomad like him has finally found his place.

The studio

We are located in Romolo, a neighborhood south of Milan. Glauco Canalis’s home-studio is located in a basement with large windows that filter a gentle, diffuse light. The somewhat British underground soul is perceptible even though everything is carefully organized. The space is very large, an open space divided into zones, on one side the living area and on the other the working area. On the latter side we notice the presence of boxes and many binders on the shelves, a large desk with a computer and a small table on which Glauco is reorganizing all his cameras. We are curious about how he lives in this space and how he organizes his work. Let’s start with the questions.

Let’s start from the beginning. How did it all come about?

I found my path when I started working as a music photographer. After seven years as a freelancer, I returned to Italy, mainly due to COVID and Brexit, and started working for the Controluce agency, which represents me now. In Italy, for the time being, I work less with music, focusing more on fashion and my personal projects.

What are your personal projects about?

There’s a significant overarching theme characterizing my research—the identity of the Mediterranean. Under this large umbrella, there are projects like the one I did in Sicily, which deals with the political landscape. After the American invasion, there was a separatist movement aiming to make Sicily the forty-ninth American State. Being Sicilian myself, I became intrigued and investigated this story, particularly by photographing at the sites of American military bases. In recent years, the themes I’m most engaged with revolve around adolescence. I’m interested in depicting youth situations in suburban neighborhoods, narrating unique stories, such as areas affected by poor governance.

What are you working on now?

Currently, I’m working on a project exploring the Neapolitan tradition linked to the cult of Saint Anthony the Abbot and the “Cippo.” This project, tentatively titled “The darker the night, the brighter the stars,” essentially documents the Neapolitan tradition of burning Christmas trees found—or rather, stolen—around town. All of this occurs on the day of Saint Anthony the Abbot, which falls on January 17. This tradition turns into a kind of gang warfare. For four years now, I’ve been working on this project, following a group of youths from a neighborhood in Naples. This project has earned me awards and exhibitions in Portugal, Puglia, and next year, I’ll present it in Paris.

From what you tell us, your work doesn’t seem to be easy. How do you choose the places where you operate? Do you spend a lot of time in the field?

Research is often impulsive. I rely a lot on intuition—I find myself in a place and start shooting, then the research begins. Often, it’s the place that finds me and inspires me. From there, I delve into the context and seek answers. As I study, I uncover the place’s history, and almost always, I discover an element that connects to me. There’s always something autobiographical and personal in the things that interest me—I sense them, and I dive right in.

So you never choose a place beforehand?

When it comes to my personal projects, it’s actually never been the case. For instance, this project I’m currently working on – “The darker the night, the brighter the stars” – originated from my stay in Naples. It was 2018, and I was working on Liberato’s music video. I noticed children hiding Christmas trees, curious, I asked, and they told me this absurd story. The following year, I spent New Year’s Eve in Naples, and that story came back to me. I began asking more questions and doing research. That’s when I decided to narrate this story. Reading about a place before visiting it happens very rarely; usually, if I do it, it’s because it’s already tied to something I’m working on.

Let’s talk about your studio. You’re relatively new here; how do you feel about this new studio? How were your previous studios?

When I lived in London, I had a fairly large room where I used to shoot, but it was never as big as the space I have now. In general, my studio always coincides with my home, mainly because, as a photographer, I don’t need a proper studio like an artist might. Once I have a space for my computer and a backdrop for shooting, I have everything I need. This is my first space this large and solely dedicated to work. I immediately felt at home here.

Are you attached to this place, or would you leave tomorrow?

I feel comfortable in this house. If I had to stay in Milan, I wouldn’t want to be in a different house. I really like the light here; maybe the only thing missing is a garden. I’m the opposite of someone rooted; this is my attempt to have a fixed point because I have a very nomadic approach to life.

Do you enjoy hosting people and communal living? Do you often feel alienated in this space as both a home and studio?

I’ve been here for a year, and I’m thrilled to have found this space. I enjoy cooking a lot, so when I’m in the mood, I often have dinners and lunches. With this large table, it’s natural to invite many people. The most alienating aspect of this space is that it’s a basement, so I can’t see what’s happening outside. Also, my modus operandi often involves being at the computer for weeks for post-production or writing, so the possibility of feeling isolated is there. However, fortunately, my work varies enough. I’m either here at the computer or away for weeks. There’s a sort of polarity. But I like knowing I have this place as a base; it makes me feel calm to know I have a place with my things where I’ll return.

What do you like most about this space?

This place reflects a lot of who I am. Certainly, its spaciousness gives me room to think. The ability to have a space I can shape keeps my mind active.

Last customary question, what’s an object that must be in your studio?

It’s sad to say, but it’s the computer. It’s the tool I use the most here in the studio for post-production, research, and communication. One thing I always feel the need to have physically with me are my photography books and negatives. I need to know they’re with me. I get a bit anxious when I don’t have them, and I have a great fear that something might happen to them. My dream is to have a wall for archiving and cataloging everything; otherwise, when I can afford it, I’ll put them in a vault.

Ph Credits Andrés Juan Suarez