Synopsis

At 21 years old I was living in Los Angeles working three crappy jobs that left me with little time and even less inspiration to work on my art.  My four-year relationship was not going well and I knew it wasn’t up to him to do for me what I had to do for myself.  I needed to change my life.  What I was doing wasn’t my idea of living.  I reached out to find a job abroad and within a week was hired to teach English to an Italian family in Torino, in the northern region of Italy.

I found myself in the Piedmontese hills overlooking the city, staying with an aristocratic brood, whose head of the family worked for the local industry, FIAT.  I taught myself Italian while teaching the children English, learned how to cook and took photographs.

When I ventured away from the family home I was surprised to find others like myself.  I had imagined the Italian guys as shepherds wearing britches- far from it.  One guy’s family who I met had an apartment for rent, which they offered to me.  When the summer was over I decided to seize the opportunity to live in Torino permanently even though it meant sacrificing my relationship back home and taking a chance on the unknown.  I was at a place in my life where it wasn’t courage that brought me to Italy, it was desperation.

Returning this time with more cameras, art supplies and a warm coat, I find myself moving into an amazing apartment above the local flower shop, overlooking the Po River – something out of a dream.  Italy is everything the movies said it would be, but as each day unfolded I discovered a new kind of Italy, the underground of Torino.  Squat houses that hosted political and music parties, techno clubs in abandoned factories, bars along the river where you can always score hash from some Moroccan guy.  I was a black sheep who was lost and somehow stumbled upon others just like me.  I was looking for artists, for people who didn’t come from privilege, and these people became my friends and I photographed and wrote about the moments we shared.  Some of them did drugs, a lot of them lied, they all loved but no matter what, made it home to “la mamma” for dinner.

The days passed and my art evolved as I continued to photograph intimate moments with others and myself, falling into different love affairs.  Some turned into beautiful friendships, some were challenging, some broke my heart and one memorable stranger threatened to extinguish everything about my spirit that had been reawakened.

One day I moved out of my safe haven and got caught in a scam that took most of my money and left me with no place to live.  I found myself in a borrowed art studio with no heat and no bathroom, and few of the comforts I had come to take for granted.

Each page of intimate photographs and writing illustrate the romanticism and heartbreak, the self-deprecation and self-awareness that one goes through as they transition into being an adult.  Each experience left an everlasting impression and an indelible mark on my evolution as an artist and a woman.  Throughout each page readers will  feel as if they know this girl and some might even feel as though this could be their story- They could be this young woman navigating the precipice of self-discovery.

CIAO L.A. available for Limited Edition sale at Paolo Tonin Arte Contemporanea

CIAO L.A. is available for a limited edition sale along with 11X14 inch print sold through Paolo Tonin Arte Contemporanea in Turin, Italy.

To purchase a copy of CIAO L.A.- the book, instructions are as followed:

Go to the CONTACT PAGE

Fill in your information and specify your order.

Hardcover Book with print: $ 350.00
Hardcover Book alone: $ 150.00
Shipping: $ 50.00

Stephen Cohen Gallery_featuring CIAO L.A.

The show runs through Saturday, June 25 – Saturday, July 30, 2011

The Summer Reading Show @ the Stephen Cohen Gallery has included CIAO L.A. as part of an exhibition featuring limited edition books.  There is also a print from the book being exhibited.

GALLERY HOURS
Tuesday – Saturday 11:00AM – 6:00PM

7358 Beverly Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90036

Page 1

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We arrived in the city of Torino, a small city resembling Paris with the Po River running through it below the hills.  There are about 1,000,000 people in Torino, surrounded by the mountains.  People tell me being geographically enclosed has also closed the people down as well.  They have a saying about the Torinese people, “Piedmontese, falsi e cortesi”, which translates “people are courteous and false”.  But I have been welcomed by this city with curiosity and open arms.



 

Page 81, 83 & 85

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14/1/01

Awoke at 10am, took a shower, did some emailing, had a coffee with Fabio who works downstairs at the flower shop and went to Cafe Des Arte to study Italian.  My hands are cold, writing is a little difficult, the weather bites.   Feelings are all over the place.  The heart is strange, the rest is alright.

… I need a heater 98.6


Page 155, 157 & 159 (the lost pages)

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Projects for when I return:

Self-portraits senza faccia

Portraits of friends

Gestation – a book about the process

Paintings with photos

Polaroid portraits (mixed media)

Quad shots (me & Torino)

Samantha – portraits of peculiar beauty

high contrast shots

portraits of strangers

nudes?

check in suitcase under where top handle is w/ towel

film kodak box w/ camera bag

in polaroid camera

in ritz box

2 film in purse pocket


Page 185 & 186 (the lost pages)

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June 25th

Now I smell your scent, I wanna turn my head.  Choking, I’m afraid to be harsh.  My legs crash to the ground.  That was the last time.  Desperation is ugly.  Control yourself.

It’s too hot in this city.

I’m losing my mind.  Help.

7/7/01

I’m so fucked up right now… I wish there was someone with me right now… Maybe it’s better I’m alone.  I’m still not used to Samantha leaving to go back to L.A.  It was time for her to move on, but I’m still in Torino.


Page 239, 241,243, 245, 247 & 249

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7/4/02 I should start to think about what I like, I’m beginning to forget.  Nature in the daytime, city at night.  Should I move to Paris?  So much going on all at once.  Almost 23 years old.  I thought by now it would have all worked itself out.  Livin in a dream world, thinking up someone else’ dream. 

listening to Cypress Hill.  feeling like shit.  People traveling in Packs.  Everyone’s trying to be different in the same way. 

3/5/02 Volunteering at the gallery, thinking of other ways I could make use of my time… Taking fotos, reading, smoking less.  I hope Davide comes here tonight.  Enjoying his company might become the demise of me.

Tonight I left without kissing anybody goodbye and felt uncomfortable, as if I had broken some Italian law.  It’s just that sometimes I want to be out when I’m ready to go and saying goodbye here can take a half an hour.  That’s kind of the beautiful think about Italy at the same time, people are so engaged that it takes them time to pull away.

I forgot what poetry was for… not just a vague explanation of thought existing in double meanings, it’s for Love.


Page 277 & 279

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15/2/03 Budapest is a depressing city.  The winter is cold & dark.  A grey blanket covers the city, but there’s no warmth.  People walk with their faces tucked into jacket collars, partly for warmth, partly to hide.  Davide and I hang out at his place going out to walk his dog and grab a hot cider.

Fighting with Davide in the middle of the streets of Budapest for impossible affections.  The air was cold, but not as cold as he was.  I turn around and run as far away in the opposite direction, anywhere but here.  The streets are covered in ice, I’m slippin.

Finally leaving this tortured existence I put myself through.  Masochistic ignorance.  Abandoning myself to the fucking devil.  NO MORE.  Wasted tears, wasted breath.

There’s nothing to show for a few days past, that are never gonna last, so just let it go.