2020-12-23 20:49:00
«Milan was changing before our eyes. It was a rapid, unstoppable revolution, with its baggage of humanity on the move. It brought with it silent pain, little happiness and great hopes. I wanted to understand the meaning of this change. And in those years, the Sixties, the Pirelli skyscraper represented the most powerful symbol of that modernity and of an anthropological and cultural revolution.” Uliano Lucas, thinking back to his image of the emigrant under the Pirellone, speaks with a firm and at the same time passionate voice. On the other hand, he was a witness and narrator of that transformation with the form of writing that he has always used and which has two special ingredients: light and time.
Uliano Lucas, professional photojournalist, but also photography historian, seventy-eight years worn lightly, belongs to those authors (now increasingly rare) who believe in photojournalism as a tool for testimony, civil commitment, but above all an opportunity for knowledge. A look, his, which is a critical reflection on the present and which over time has been transformed into a historical document, a still image of an era. So, today that Pirellone turns 60, it is natural to reflect with him on the deeper meaning of that image, remembering the day he took the photo, the atmosphere of that time, and also what Milan has become today, thinking about the promises kept and those broken.
Uliano Lucas in a shot by Fabio BussalinoThere is no doubt about one thing: that photo is a sociological manifesto. The man is still, his gaze is towards the observer, as if to question our consciences protected by well-being. He is wearing a poor dark raincoat, a hat that resembles a beret, he has the suitcase in his left hand, while, supported with difficulty on his shoulder, there is a box fixed with adhesive tape: it is the (authentic) image of the emigrant, so as the great Neorealist films have imprinted it in our minds. But Lucas’ photo has something more that makes it unique: behind that man, in that first dazed contact with Milan, stands out powerfully and elegantly the symbol of modernity, of the solidity of a country immersed in the miracle of the boom.
Young people from the student movement in Piazzale Accursio, photo by Uliano Lucas, Milan, 1971The image brings together two opposite worlds and becomes a metaphor for a city which offers everyone the opportunity for social redemption, for economic affirmation. An opportunity symbolized precisely by that skyscraper designed by Gio Ponti: for everyone, the Pirellone. «He was a Sardinian, he came from Olbia», recalls Lucas about the emigrant immortalized in the shot. «He didn’t know where to go, he had a crumpled note with an address in the extreme southern suburbs. So I went over and helped him. I’ve never liked stealing photos. I have always wanted to talk, get to know, share the thoughts of who I wanted to portray. So I told him that I had served in the military in Sardinia and after a few steps together I asked him if I could photograph him. I used a wide angle: a 21 millimeter. Two rolls of film. I wanted to unite the man and the skyscraper. For me and for all the Milanese, the Pirellone was a symbol, like the Rinascente or the Velasca Tower. But if the Rinascente and the Velasca Tower were symbols of the bourgeoisie, the Pirellone, for us who had seen it grow little by little since 1960 (it was completed in 1964, ed), with its architectural beauty, was above all the symbol of capitalism, of the supremacy of the economy. The portrait of that man in his first impact with Milan is the image of an anthropological trauma.”
Anyone who knows Uliano Lucas personally knows that there is no distinction between his work as a photographer and his vision of an intellectual who goes against the grain, a man allergic to rules, rebellious and free. His own biography traces his character: after being expelled from a school for children of partisans, at the age of sixteen he began to frequent the Jamaica bar, a celebrated meeting place for artists, poets, photographers and journalists. His university is there, in Brera, a few steps from the Academy. Training? The meetings and endless discussions with Lucio Fontana, Piero Manzoni, Mario Dondero, Carlo Bavagnoli, Nini and Ugo Mulas, Luciano Bianciardi, Remo Muratori, Giancarlo Iliprandi, Nanni Balestrini…
Literature, art, photography, politics have always been one thing for him. And from here we also understand his way of photographing: «That image is part of a large reportage. For weeks I wandered around the Central Station. I wanted to understand. It seemed important to me to talk about that humanity that came to Milan from the South in search of work. Until that September morning with the leaden sky. It was 1968. You could clearly feel that the country was changing: there was the theme of emigration, that of workers’ struggles, of work and then there was also a sexual revolution, of art, of music… Think of the Beatles in Milan… In short, there was a palpable need for transformation in the air. The conservative world was about to be rocked, thankfully. And the city had to be revealed, told. I imposed this on myself.”
In the movie The harsh lifebased on the novel by Luciano Bianciardi and starring Ugo Tognazzi, the protagonist, to avenge the death of the Grosseto miners, wants to blow up the Pirellone, where the mine owners had their headquarters. «It is a cinematic fiction that increases the symbolic value of the Pirellone. At the time, the headquarters of Montedison, owner of the mines in question, were located in the building where the American consulate is today. Curiously, that building was also designed by Ponti. Bianciardi embodied a different form of emigration, the intellectual one. Just think of journalism: how many Neapolitan, Sicilian and Parma journalists are there in Milanese newspapers? We all met at Jamaica, there was no age difference and there was a solidarity that is unthinkable today. Just as an example, mixing with someone like Giangiacomo Feltrinelli was normal. Then he never came again because everyone asked him for money.” And Lucas smiles amusedly.
«I remember a man looking out the door. He candidly tells us: “I am a poet and I come from Sicily”. The next day he had already found a job. Other years, other worlds: the cultural industry was looking for intelligence. There was an energy full of utopias, imagination and commitment. But above all we discussed each other, we even argued ferociously. And we all grew together. Then Milan was a free port. This is the richness of Milan, it always has been: also thanks to the contribution of many southerners. As early as 1946, a sort of Free Republic founded on culture was formed in Milan. In those years Guttuso, De Santis, Lizzani, Pontecorvo, Murialdi, Dova, Crippa, Quasimodo frequented the trattorias and cafés of Brera, not to mention all the others who remained in the shadows».
Other memories: «There were the small rituals: the inaugurations of the galleries, the avant-garde, the Piccolo Teatro. Of course, it can be discussed and Giorgio Strehler’s productions of Bertolt Brecht made me laugh, but there was a great cultural richness. Also thanks to captains of industry who understood. There were very few, of course, but just think of Pirelli for its extraordinary and innovative graphic production…”.
What remains of that Milan today? Lucas warns: «I answer with a question: where have you ever seen a painter like Lucio Fontana buying the works of the avant-garde, of young unknown painters like Castellani, Manzoni, Nanda Vigo at the time? They were young artists and he supported them… There was the desire and the idea to change. I say this without rhetoric. Milan was a city in which solidarity prevailed, essentially reformist with a very Catholic socialism, which spread a new myth and a different slogan of acceptance: “You are southern, but you want to work. And then I’m fine with it.” It must be said that outside the myth of Commander and of breaded life was very hard and no one ever told about it except some directors, like Olmi, or Visconti in Rocco and his brothers».
The eyes of those who know how to look: «I can only speak as a photographer: I see that in all these years many things have changed. New rights have been established: of workers, of women, of the family. Anthropologically the inhabitant of the city has changed. Everything that was the myth and history of the industry has been shattered and has led to a dissolution of certainties, bringing fear. Many pacts, of human stories and encounters, have been broken: the family has dissolved, the political parties have dissolved. The trade unions have collapsed, everything has collapsed. And human relationships have disappeared. Only finance, money, remains. What Tognazzi said remains The harsh life: I dane, I dane, I dane. Everything has been monetized: friendship, intellectual thought, life. And relationships between people have become very difficult. Even in the communication system, in journalism, in publishing. If you want to live in Milan you have to have a very high income. Milan is a city that does not allow you to live in freedom of thought. Today there is a system of individualism in which the real interest is one: making money.”
Something, however, is “saved”: “There are pockets of resistance and also an idea of solidarity: I think of Milan these days and the queues for bread. I think of the increasingly dramatic inequality that our society is experiencing. But I also think of the scene of a singer, Fedez, who gives out envelopes with a thousand euros on board a Lamborghini. So I go and reread Dickens: and I wonder where has the dignity gone? The display of wealth is really annoying and in this case really out of place. What should we do? Do we return to paternalistic charity, to pietism? Shall we go back to the 19th century? Of course, everyone has their own idea of solidarity, and “everyone must do their part, obviously”. Lucas continues: «I am simply a photographer and I have tried to give faces to the invisible. Let’s think about it, photography can be a powerful instrument of denunciation: let’s remember Lewis Hine who revealed the exploitation of child labor in the American economy. This is to say that there is one thing that we all must defend. The right to social achievements, the rights of every single person, the right to their dignity. Let’s not forget: Milan is a city yet to be discovered. All to be told.”
Career. The power of a dreamer in reports and books
Dean of Italian photographers, Uliano Lucas (Milan, 1942) created reportages documenting youth protests, street protests, immigration, industrialization, the devastation of the territory, the conditions in prisons and psychiatric hospitals. Also known are his war reports and those dedicated to the fight for democracy. Lucas has exhibited his images in the most important museums in the country, in personal exhibitions but also in collective ones such as The road, the struggle, the love (with works by Letizia Battaglia and Tano D’Amico) which was held in Fermo until October 4th. The book production from 1965 to today is also vast: Uliano Lucas’s latest book is Dreamers and rebels. Photographs and thoughts beyond 1968 (Bompiani, 2018)
December 23, 2020 (modified December 23, 2020 | 9.37 pm)
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Isible, to those who often go unnoticed in the bustling cityscape. My aim has always been to capture the essence of humanity amidst the urban grind, to depict the stories of those who come to Milan with hope in their hearts but often face harsh realities. The city has changed; the pulse of creativity and community that once thrived seems dulled by the overwhelming presence of capitalism and individualism.
Throughout my years of photographing, I have sought to document the shifting tides of society, capturing the barrage of emotions that come with change—both good and bad. From the joyful gatherings of artists and thinkers of my youth, where there was a genuine camaraderie and collective effort to uplift one another, to the stark loneliness that now pervades the city streets, it’s as if Milan has lost a piece of its soul.
Today, it feels like there are layers of artificiality that shield our connections to one another. The essence of solidarity and community—qualities that once drew people to the city—is now overshadowed by the pursuit of wealth and status. While there are still pockets of resistance, where individuals band together for a common cause, the pervasive individualism creates a void where relationships used to bloom.
In my work, I hope to shed light on these narratives and invoke a sense of reflection in the viewers. What kind of city do we want to build? How do we reclaim the spirit of collaboration and mutual support that defined Milan in the past? These questions linger in the air, and as a photographer, I remain steadfast in my commitment to highlight the voices that yearn to be heard amidst the noise of the metropolis. It’s a journey of discovery for both me and my audience—a journey that challenges us to rethink our values and our connections in an ever-evolving world. photography for me is not just about capturing a moment; it’s about telling the stories that matter and igniting conversations around our shared humanity.