By Chrystalla Christodoulou
Have you ever pondered on how you navigate the cities you inhabit or visit? In this piece I discuss a change in mediums I made in order to find my place in Florence’s streets.
Everything I love about art came from my introduction to photography. It made me appreciate the human body as poetry, with secrets being exchanged between subject and audience. My own camera has helped me turn moments of joy, doubt, and vulnerability into art.
However, when travelling, photography becomes a game for me; it gives me adrenaline and pushes me around. I didn’t want to remember my time in Florence as a rushed hunt.
So I bought a sketchbook.
Drawing pulls me to the ground. It slows me down, and makes me choose one single atom of this vivid city to analyse.
When someone realises I’m drawing them, they are usually amused. Vastly different from the angered looks I get as a photographer; I am seen as harmless when sketching. They sometimes accentuate their pose, or even ask to see themselves.
I sit on the steps of Palazzo Vecchio and observe a couple presumably travelling together. They are discussing the David, as tourists and residents alike rush by them. In that moment, they are still unaware of me so I take my time in documenting her hat and his ponytail.
When I look back at the drawing I remember waiting for my friend, knowing she’ll be mad because of my dead phone. I remember the man trying to make his companion laugh, and her looking away. I know exactly what song I was listening to, playing from a stranger’s phone. A new favourite.
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