Mario Rota

What type of printing do you prefer?

I have to make a very personal distinction: to display my photos, I choose medium-to-large prints, say a square meter or larger. For this type of production, I choose fine art prints on Hahnemühle paper—specifically, Photo Rag Ultra Smooth—mounted on Dibond. They are three-dimensionally “full bleed”: without borders to “fit” into the walls that will host them and, if the display conditions allow, without a front element to protect the surface. The result is simply exceptional: I love the slightly textured surface of this type of technique, which perfectly embodies the dreamy, bold effect I seek for both my color and black-and-white photos.

Alternatively, I also recommend Lux-art aluminum prints in both matte and glossy finishes. They offer extremely high quality, impressive three-dimensionality, and, when spaced, are perfect for displaying at home or in a work environment.

I was impressed by the final result of the canvas prints of some paintings in a church that—due to be sent for restoration for a long time—were reproduced and repositioned on site in 1:1 format.
Then, every now and then, I still make homemade analog prints, but only because I enjoy experimenting with unusual processes.

Did the idea come first or the fascination with the material?

The material always comes after the initial idea, the pre-visualization of the final result: when you shoot, you already have in mind what the final effect should be, especially if it is a commissioned work.

But sometimes it is the material that “calls” and pushes us to produce a certain image with certain characteristics.

Do you have any Masters you look up to and feel close to?

Ouch, tough question.

I look at a lot of photography every day, whether in books or exhibitions when I can, or online. I think it’s essential for a photographer to fill their eyes with the wonders and inspirations others offer us. 

By age and training as an art historian, I draw my imagination from painting but also from the great “classical” photographers.

If I have to name some names that I know from the gut – I would say Jodice, Sieff, the great photographers of Magnum Photos – those that are close to my heart are Raghu Rai, Burri, List, Webb, Maioli, Scianna, and also Newman, De Biasi, Berengo Gardin, Avedon, Roiter, Gilardi, Giacomelli, my friend Pepi Merisio, Mulas, Basilico, Harari, Leibovitz and Cerati… 

But I also follow many more “recent” photographers: Monika Bulaj, who I truly consider my teacher, Francesco Faraci, Lorenzo Zoppolato, Raul Iacometti, Fausto Podavini, Valerio Bispuri, Francesco Comello, Giorgio Galimberti, etc etc. It seems like a lot but for each name I could mention at least thirty others.

When I see their images it’s like meeting a friend I’ve known for a long time and who I keep locked away in a drawer of my soul.

Sometimes I see, or think I see, some fragments of these photographers in my images too but I don’t think I can aspire to their heights.

In his shots, Maya’s veil has fallen.

Pity, pain, dignity and power emerge and capture the eyes of the observer in many of his projects, as in the photos of  “Just drive” and “Filomena”, a woman who survived her violent husband, who with her face covered in scars caused by the acid poses confidently and majestically next to her own reflection which doubles the decorations of her dress and her face, like a kaledoscope.

Death and life, life and rebirth after near death.

They are photographs that fully refer to the image of the Sacred, to the history of art but also to the theme  of the “mask”, so dear to artists of the early and late twentieth century such as Pirandello and Alighiero Boetti.

For example in “The Mask and the Artist” the subjects cover their faces with their hands and then subsequently reveal themselves, freeing their faces.

The shots merge the two scenes, generating portraits in which we cannot know which is the real face, whether the one with hands covering it or the one without.

How important is empathy for you for the success of a photographic project that requires a connection with the subject portrayed and above all how do you manage it without getting overwhelmed?

A challenging and profound question. Thank you for this very flattering analysis. Empathy… If I think that when I was young I thought I would never be able to take a portrait of a human subject it makes me smile because I am terribly shy and introverted: this is why I photographed works of art and inanimate objects. Then I started working in the entertainment world and everything changed.

Now I always say that I am lucky and rich because I do a job that allows me to enter people’s stories, sometimes to become part of them.
For me, portraying always means getting closer, revealing yourself, seeking contact, communication with the possibility of being accepted or rejected. It’s always a meeting and for a meeting to be true you always have to play cards face up, be close, stay inside the stories while always remaining yourself but open to welcoming what others can give you. For an approach like mine, empathy is as necessary as air: I let myself be carried away and only a little skill allows me to manage it.

Everyone leaves me something, really, and I have to give something in return.

Sometimes it’s simple, light, fresh, as in the recent case of Vita, a four-year-old girl, with whom we had a blast taking photos for an advertisement.

Sometimes you’re catapulted into a whirlwind of emotions and feelings that you must tap into to give your best as a photographer. This is the case with weddings: it’s a photographic genre that too many consider the entry-level photographer’s job, but in reality, to do it well, you must fully immerse yourself in the couple’s story. This is why we’re moved every time and often find ourselves photographing in tears from the emotion of the day. It’s why my collaborators and I have decided to do a few select ones each year, to avoid the risk of the “work” overpowering the story.

Other times, you risk being dragged into stories filled with great effort and enormous pain. When I participated in a project on road accidents in 2013, after six months I was on the verge of depression after coming into contact with those experiences. You mentioned Filomena. I confess that to be able to photograph Filomena, I went to a psychologist because she was making me question my role as a photographer in such an enormously important story. Then, once I met her, everything actually came easy and natural.

Future projects?

Lots. Just before the lockdown, we had laid the groundwork for a project that was forced to be put on hold. But when the conditions are right, I’ll come and tell them about it and print it.