La Bella Figura

My father, Mario, came to this country at the age of 18 from Northern Italy. He landed on Ellis Island, where a tile purchased by my brother, Peter, bears our family name to this day. My father knew almost no one — a stranger in a foreign land of opportunity. He was good-looking with an undeniable personal style that he held onto throughout his lifetime. Clothes speak for us. They are part of what we see in the mirror and what others see in us, and my father’s style expressed his confidence, charisma, and courage. I believe it was his way of holding onto la bella figura, that granular attention to how you present yourself with dignity and flair to the world, especially to a new world.

I have photographed stylish New Yorkers for over 25 years and often wonder about their origin stories, their hopes and dreams. I feel that many possess a story similar to that of my father, who left everything behind in search of something greater and, ultimately, in search of himself and a new life. Almost every person I choose to photograph is walking alone as if their individuality embodied an element of exile and a kind of elevated separateness and sway. In my view, there is nothing performative about their appearance, nothing that places them in the sameness of others.

Personal connections can be fragile in this big city and so asking to take someone’s photograph is an affirming moment where someone feels truly seen. The sartorial potency of these portraits is undeniable, but imagined dialogues may also surface from the folds of their garments and from a gaze met by me through my camera: two strangers en route to who knows where, sharing the privilege, however fleeting, of a chance encounter. It is like meeting a new friend that you will never see again, but you hold on to the memory.