Earlier this year we visited Bologna and I published a short post of street photography – people and shops. Recently we went there again and I was able to get in some evening and night photography. Again, these were taken on my Fujifilm X-Pro3 camera which is assuming a similar place in my affections to my old Contax G1 35mm film camera.
In terms of image quality the X-Pro3 cannot match my medium-format Fujifilm GFX 50R camera with its much larger sensor, but it has its advantages. It is small and unobtrusive compared to the larger camera, and much lighter – where the GFX 50R has brass and steel, the X-Pro3 has magnesium and titanium. And the lenses for larger cameras need more glass, which adds weight. As a result the X-Pro3 with a 16mm lens weighs a bit over 700 grams, while the GFX 50R with its 32-64mm lens weighs in at over 1.7 kilograms.
Of course night photography has challenges – as the light in the sky fades, shadows become darker and you need to boost the ISO, which makes the resulting images noisier, which is to say more grainy. Modern software can help a lot with noise reduction – I use something called Topaz DeNoise AI.
One of the best times is when the light in the sky is at about the same level as that illuminating the objects you are photographing. This period is quite short, although it lasts a bit longer in summer. Digital post-processing does allow you to extend that period by adjusting highlights and shadows, but if overdone it will look artificial.
I was using a wide-angle lens, which has some disadvantages – objects and people appear smaller. But it has some advantages for street photography. The wide angle allows you to point the camera past people rather than at them, while still getting them in the composition.
Wide-angle lenses can also give you a lot of foreground in the shot, which is not a good thing if the foreground is boring. On the other hand if you can make the foreground interesting, for example by looking for people casting long shadows, it can add to the mood, or even become one of the subjects of the composition.
By the time we got to the main piazza, the sky was getting a lot darker, but was still bright enough to create silhouettes. Silhouettes in night photography can be overrated, but when they are instantly recognisable like the Statue of Neptune, they can be worth it.
Eventually it got to the point where the only source of light was street lights and shop windows.
Not long ago, most of the shop interiors would have been lit by fluorescent tubes. The light produced by these would come out on film and digital sensors as a ghastly blue-green. And incandescent light bulbs came out as very yellow, so when both sources were present, it was almost impossible to balance them without some advanced post-processing techniques. These days people mostly light their shops with LEDs, which produce light that looks a lot more natural to a camera. A win for night photography as well as for the environment.
Lighting coming from odd directions can help the street photographer to pick out a subject and try and tell a story. As someone who mostly did landscape photography for many years I will admit that I am still coming to grips with this, but it is fun when it works out.
Bologna is one of the best places in Italy for street photography, of the candid sort but also of some beautifully presented shopfronts and window displays. We recently spent a couple of days in Bologna with friends, and here is a short photo essay. All these were taken on my new Fujifilm X-Pro3 which is a small, discreet rangefinder-style digital camera.
The historic centre of Bologna is a good place for street photography, for a few reasons. One is that there are enough tourists that the guy with the camera doesn’t stand out, but enough locals that your picture is not going to be full of tourists.
Another is that even when a shopkeeper does see you taking a photograph, he or she is probably used to it. A third is that the elegant shopfronts and food displays in the market quarter deserve to be photographed – when the proprietor has spent that much trouble making it look nice, it is a fitting compliment to take a picture of it.
In any case, in shops I often ask first. “Posso?” (may I?) I ask, pointing at the camera. No-one has ever said no, but it makes me feel more comfortable knowing that I have been given permission. In the picture above, the man in the cheese shop said “certo” (of course) and carried on cleaning his counter.
If I haven’t asked, and get busted, I will touch my cap and nod thanks, which often seems to suffice.
Immediately to the east of the Piazza Maggiore in Bologna is a small area of narrow streets and many shops, mainly butchers, fishmongers, greengrocers, wine merchants and the like. This is the historic market area, and the best time to go there is in the morning, when all the produce is fresh, and in any case some shops like the fishmongers close for the day at lunchtime.
Bologna is home to the world’s oldest university (founded in 1088) and it has the energy and edginess that one associates with student towns. But it is also a prosperous place – productive agriculture and high-tech industry clearly bring in a lot of wealth, and have done for a while. In the centre the shopfronts can therefore be very elegant – sometimes retaining their original antique signage when the actual shop has been taken over by something more modern.
But one of the special things about Bologna is that the Bolognese take food very, very seriously indeed, even by Italian standards. The food shops are therefore temples to gastronomy, places of wonder, delight and not inconsiderable expense.
One of the classiest shops in this area is “Atti & Figli”. You can walk away from there somewhat lighter in the pocket, but clutching a couple of hundred grams of tortellini in very elegant packaging and the feeling that somehow you have temporarily been admitted to an exclusive club.
A note on the photography – black and white conversion
I was very pleased with the photograph above of the man in the cheese shop – the simplicity of the scene and the rich colours required little in the way of post-processing. But nonetheless I was interested to see if I could make it more dramatic by converting it to back and white. Most cameras (and smartphones) have a monochrome option, and sometimes this does little more than convert each pixel in the red, green and blue channels to the same intensity in greyscale.
But have you ever seen a black and white photograph and wondered why it seems more dramatic than its colour equivalent would have been?
The answer may be that the colours have not been given equal priority in conversion to greyscale. This was something that the old film photographers understood well; when I was a child learning to take black and white pictures, my father showed me how to attach a yellow filter in sunny weather. This had the effect of blocking much of the blue light, and darkening skies while leaving clouds white, making it much more dramatic.
You can do the same with a digital photograph. In the image below, I boosted the red and yellow while reducing the blue, using Affinity Photo 2 software. This made the orange colours of the cheeses seem to glow, while reducing white and blue – see how the man’s white coat has become dark. Is it an “accurate” photograph? Not in some ways, but that’s not always the point.
Note: we made a second visit to Bologna a couple of months later. On that occasion I took quite a few evening shots, which you can see here.
Here is a short photographic essay on street photography in Naples, with thoughts on the genre as a whole.
I feel a bit diffident about taking candid photographs of strangers – I talked about this before in my post on Street Photography. There are a few ways around this – apart from sticking exclusively to landscapes, of course.
One is to include people as anonymous distant or abstract objects in a composition.
Another is to choose occasions when implied consent may reasonably be assumed – such as street performers or people taking part in historical pageants. People doing both are even better, although it seems only fair to toss a euro in the hat if you take their photographs.
If in doubt you can always ask – pointing at the camera and raising your eyebrows will get the point across fairly well. People in professional environments – shopkeepers or craftsmen – often respond positively.
And it is really hard to define, but there are certain places when you just feel that people are less self-conscious, more exuberant and outgoing, and less likely to be bothered by the presence of a camera. Such a place is Naples.
These things are admittedly subjective and I am quite likely to be projecting my own responses to the city onto others, but both times we have visited Naples I have taken a great many pictures of people and I’ve never felt that my doing so was unwelcome.
A lot of the time, the attraction of photographing people just going about their daily lives is that it helps you capture a sense of what it is like living there. Of course there is plenty of scope for being selective – if you just chose happy people, you could make a city seem like a wonderful place to live, and if you just chose down-and-outs, it could seem horrible. You see this sort of tendentious selection quite a lot in journalism. I’m not saying that it is necessarily dishonest, but if you are illustrating a story that is making a particular point, then obviously your choice of illustrations will be consistent with that.
But I am not a journalist, and I don’t really have any agenda. So for me the point is to try and illustrate the impression a place makes on me, as honestly as possible. Yes, that means I am going to be selective, but with the the best of motives. So for Naples I try and take pictures of happy people, because that how Naples makes me feel. Then again, people in Naples really do look happier.
Some of the best street photographs, for me, are those that seem to tell a story. In the picture below, is the girl on the shore dreaming that one day it will be her turn to be drinking champagne on a superyacht?
And in some cases the attraction of the photograph is just the sheer oddness of it – what on earth is going on here?
The first four photographs were taken at the Giostro della Quintana (“Joust of the Quintain”) which has been held twice a year in the Umbrian town of Foligno since its revival in 1946. The joust (where mounted lancers try and hit a target on a rotating wooden dummy) is preceded by a parade in costume. I took these photographs in the park in which the participants were forming up.
Foligno is located, somewhat unusually for this region, on the valley floor rather than perched on a hilltop or halfway up the side of a mountain. That means it has spread out a bit and the outskirts are quite industrial (which also means it was bombed during the Second World War). So our visits to Foligno had been restricted to shopping trips to the outskirts, until friends recommended we take a look at the centre.
That turned out to be good advice. The centre of Foligno has lovely buildings, nice restaurants, and cheap parking. And being flat, you can wander around it with less effort than in most Umbrian towns. It also has a museum (the Palazzo Trinci) with extraordinary frescoes and a staircase that could have been designed by M.C. Escher. I plan a separate post on all that one day. Edit: I have now posted two articles on the Palazzo Trinci. You can find the first here and the second here.
My readers, being all very educated, will have noticed that the Renaissance costumes in these photographs are consistent in both period and authenticity, unlike in some festivals where the concept of – say – “medieval” can be a bit elastic, as is how the participants’ trousers are held up . This consistency is not the result of careful selection of the photographs; they are all consistently based on Renaissance originals, and consistently this good.
The remainder of these photographs were taken at the annual festival of the patron saint of the town of Todi, also in Umbria. I wrote about the 2018 festival here. The grand parade in Todi is preceded by various events, including an archery competition between the town districts, flag-tossing, and a competition between drumming groups from various towns in the region.
Some of the drumming groups were very good indeed, but the prize went to the local team (admittedly a popular decision).
Although some Renaissance (and later) themes appear in the parade, here the emphasis is on the medieval, and specifically the High Middle Ages, because let’s face it, the costumes were more fun then than earlier.
However just because the costumes are a bit flamboyant, that does not mean that the participants are not extremely serious about it.
Indeed, sometimes it seems that there is an inverse relationship between the exuberance of the costume and the demeanour of its wearer.
There is one group of participants who have trouble maintaining the regulation straight face, and that is the children, because they are all having such tremendous fun.
In my post On the Pleasure of Old Travel Books I mentioned the writer H.V. Morton’s felicitous comment that the market at Padua was “obviously joined to the Middle Ages by a continuous string of onions”. What I did not mention at the time was that it is one of our favourite markets in Italy, more so even than Campo dei Fiori in Rome.
There are many good reasons to visit Padua, and in my view the principal one is to visit the extraordinarily beautiful Scrovegni Chapel with its frescoes by Giotto. But there is also the botanical garden, founded in 1545 by the University of Padua, part of the formalisation of the study of botany, and to house new specimens being brought to Europe from the New World and Asia.
Actually, most visitors to Padua are probably there to visit the Basilica of one of the most popular saints in the Catholic hagiography, Saint Antony of Padua. Outside the basilica you can see the magnificent bronze statue by Donatello of the condottiere Erasmo di Narni, known to history as Gattamelata or the “honeyed cat”.
And it’s just a really pretty place all round.
But for all its many attractions, we would never visit Padua without going to the market. Not only does Morton’s observation about the sense of historical continuity hold true, but the quality of the produce is outstanding, it sits under, and beside, an extraordinary medieval building called the Palazzo della Ragione (Palace of Reason), and it’s a great place for people-watching.
The market gets going very early and is a heaving mass of activity all morning. Then, after everyone has bought the ingredients for their lunch and is going home to cook it, a miracle happens. Within half an hour or so the shops under the Palazzo are shuttered, the stalls in the piazza outside are folded up and taken away, and before you know it the place is deserted and the sleepy afternoon sets in.
So here is a photographic tribute to the Padua Market.
Next to the market is a pleasant bar where we enjoyed an aperitivo. Later, while at the Basilica of St Antony, I realised that I had mislaid my combined walking stick and camera monopod. I hurried back to the bar, to find that they were keeping it for me behind the counter. When I rejoined Lou, she observed that its recovery was to be expected, because among his other portfolios, St Antony is the patron saint of lost property.