Bio

 

I am Fabrizio de Gennaro, a photographer from Modena for three generations. My story begins long before me, with my grandfather Rino de Gennaro (1902-1981).

The rebellious son of a general at the Modena Academy, he lived in an attic on Rua Muro, surrounded by animals and the paintings he created with passion. In the years following World War I, he categorically refused to join the army as his father wanted, choosing instead to work as an apprentice for photographer Gino Barbieri in Modena. It was there that he discovered his true calling, finally expressing the creativity that drove him and learning a craft that would define him for life.

During the two decades between the wars, with fascism on the rise, my grandfather made a courageous decision: to emigrate to Eritrea with his wife and their first three children. They settled in Asmara, where he opened his photography studio. His portraits were true works of art: he meticulously retouched each photo to eliminate wrinkles and imperfections, creating images with an ethereal quality that resembled paintings. But he didn't limit himself to studio portraits. He also documented the daily life of Africans and wild animals, organizing long expeditions into the savanna to capture the authentic Africa of those times.

My father, Mario de Gennaro (1933-1995), learned the trade right there, working as an apprentice in the Asmara photography studio. Years later, as a migrant worker in the oil fields of Saudi Arabia, he put those skills to use in creative and surprising ways. He took photos for the Christmas cards that American technicians sent to their families, but the conditions were extreme. The high temperatures made it nearly impossible to develop and print photos in the makeshift darkroom set up in the bathrooms of the workers' iron dormitories. His solution? Using condoms filled with ice to control the temperature of the developing baths.

For ten years in the Persian Gulf, my father changed jobs frequently and learned to speak Arabic so well that he could pass for a local. He never stopped photographing, secretly documenting even the harshest aspects of that reality: the executions and punishments imposed by Sharia law. These were testimonial images of an era and a world that few could witness.
On my fifteenth birthday, my father gave me my first manual reflex camera. He did so with a phrase I still carry with me: "so you think before you shoot," accompanied by a loving, ironic smile. It was the beginning of my photographic journey.

Raised in Paris by my French mother, in the '90s I immersed myself in a project that would become the book "Underground Paris." I documented the history of the 290 kilometers of tunnels beneath the city, providing practical guidance for exploring them. These were extraordinary places where I experimented with photography under extremely difficult conditions, perfecting my technique in the darkness and humidity of those forgotten passages.

In 1992, I organized Erotica '92, the first Eroticism Salon in Bologna, an exploration of eroticism through photography, cinema, literature, advertising, and comics. The event attracted tens of thousands of visitors and sparked contrasting reactions: the Bishop of Bologna even went so far as to excommunicate me. But that ability to provoke reflection and debate was part of my approach to cultural communication.

With the advent of the digital era, something inside me broke. I abandoned photography with a statement that concealed disappointment and frustration: "now everyone's a photographer!" For years I devoted myself entirely to raising my daughter, setting aside cameras and lenses.

Then, in 2018, everything changed. In Milan, during a concert by Ultimo, then a young artist still little known, I accompanied my daughter, bringing along a new digital camera. It had manual dials and aperture on the lens, just like the old analog reflex cameras.

That evening I shot feverishly throughout the entire concert. I rediscovered the authentic pleasure of crystallizing moments, gazes, tears. The magic of photography had reignited.
Since that night, I haven't stopped. I've photographed in theaters, at concerts, at Yellow Vest demonstrations in Paris, at Pride events, at Shibari sessions. Wherever there were authentic emotions to immortalize, I was there. Today I work for Cineuropa.org, the European Commission's online media dedicated to European cinema. I photograph actors, actresses, and directors on red carpets and at photo calls for the most important European film festivals: Venice, Cannes, Berlin, Rome.

At the same time, I regularly organize Street Photography Workshops in Paris, searching for the latest graffiti of Parisian street art and situations and subjects off the conventional tourist paths. Because photography, for me, has always been this: capturing the authentic, the hidden, what deserves to be seen and remembered.

 

Ballerina sconosciuta - Parigi 2022