Porto Santo Stefano: A Fresh Perspective

As we raced up the narrowest road I have ever seen, I couldn’t help but wonder, “Where the !@*# are we going?!” We peeled around corner after corner for 15 minutes, honking maniacally to ensure we didn’t collide with an oncoming vehicle. My body flooded with relief when we reached our destination–a minimalist paradise perched above the Mediterranean, nothing for miles but sea, tree, friends, and me.

I soon realized this wasn’t the rural Italy of photographic renown. No picturesque villages or agricultural cornucopia here, at least not within walking distance. Instead, a stark seascape stretched before me, and a luxuriant forest lay behind. What was a portrait photographer to do?

In the past, I avoided still life and nature photography. I am inherently social, and it’s difficult to converse with a vase of flowers. (Believe me; I’ve tried!) I would also grow frustrated trying to evoke personality from an item that doesn’t express emotion.

In Porto Santo Stefano, I didn’t have much choice. I was forced to branch out. I recalled a recent conversation with fellow photographer Katy Grannan about curtailing our focus on human subjects. I resolved to do just that.

I captured light dancing on the ocean, thick shadows cast by olive trees, and the oscillating motion of waves. I recognized that nature indeed has moods; conveying them became my raison d’etre.

A storm rolled through the area, providing an opportune challenge. I experienced my own Impressionist awakening, as I photographed the same scenery in contrasting conditions–brooding and tempestuous one day, dazzling and luminous the next.

I also shot still life tableaus, a novel occurrence in my career. I found it serene and freeing; inanimate objects provide an element of control absent from my usual work.

Don’t dismay when you find yourself in your own Porto Santo Stefano—thrust into unfamiliar territory. An unexpected change can prompt a fresh perspective. You may find yourself reinvigorated, as I did.