Marks We Leave On Others
Featuring Carlo Lombardi Words by Nastasia Khmelnitski
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Carlo Lombardi is a multidisciplinary artist who combines photography, archival footage, and text in his projects. Carlo was born in Abruzzo and is located between Milan, Italy, and Vilnius, Lithuania. With his work, Carlo researches nature in interconnection with humans as shaped by culture, politics, and social contexts. Carlo scrutinizes the way perceptions shape values and drive to create interpretations while working with symbolism that shape the meaning in his projects.
In addition, Carlo is collaborating with Miriam Stanke, a documentary photographer based in Germany. They work as a duo and focus on topics that have to do with the enduring consequences of war on generations, self-identification as a nation, and the resulting trauma that can last for years. Carlo describes teaming up with Miriam, “Working together, we realized that we share similar ethical values based on empathy and respect for the subject — this was crucial to our decision to collaborate as a collective.”
In this interview, we speak with Carlo about his first steps into the sphere of photography, shaping his interest and methodology during his studies. We discuss his project, la carne dell'orso, in which he investigates conservation practices by juxtaposing archival footage and current imagery. Carlo emphasizes an additional angle critical to his research, the ethical conduct that was developed with time. We learn about Carlo’s processes and collaborative work and close the conversation by speaking about his current project, We Were Longing to Fly, But Not Too Far.
‘Collaborating with the artist Jörg Christoph Grünert left a strong impact on me. He was the one to show me how to own your path and see your work in a conscious way.’
My Story
Hi Carlo, thank you for presenting your work in WÜL Magazine! Could you tell a bit about yourself? Where were you born?
Sure, thank you for having me. I was born in Abruzzo, a rural and sparsely populated region in central Italy that is rooted in transhumance and pastoral traditions. Here, the signs of interdependence between humans, animals, and the land are evident — this has definitely influenced my imagery.
What do you think had the main effect on you to enter the sphere of photography and focus your gaze on themes as understanding the core of human nature and the way it's affected by external factors?
I started to take an interest in photography rather late in my life, driven by a strong urgency that I felt at some point. I needed to look back, reclaim something from the past and reconnect to it. After obtaining a scientific degree, I studied photography for a few years — these experiences taught me the value of having time for making research, and they helped me define the boundaries of what I didn’t want to do. During that period, collaborating with the artist Jörg Christoph Grünert left a strong impact on me. He was the one to show me how to own your path and see your work in a conscious way, helping me make connections that I had previously missed.
‘The archives helped me to provide a 'factual' context for tracing the evolution of conservation practices, shedding light on past actions that now seem unacceptable and opening space for an ethical reflection on the currently adopted methods.’
la carne dell'orso
The project la carne dell'orso (2019-2022) focuses on the critically endangered species, the Apennine bears, and the history of their preservation in the Abruzzo, Lazio and Molise National Park in Italy. The work combines archival footage, texts, and your photography. The research is about the relationship between humankind and nature and the effect culture and politics have on it. Why did you decide to focus on this topic?
I decided to focus on this topic because it allowed me to delve into my own personal relationship with the place I call home. As I live between Milan and Vilnius, I found myself feeling the pull to reconnect with my roots and understand the conflicting emotions I had toward my homeland.
What was the most striking learning you gained from working on this project for three years?
As I began my research, I started looking back at my childhood memories of the National Park. You know, the wolves in cages, the dioramas with stuffed animals, and all kinds of 'filters' for nature that were popular in the seventies. While studying these 'filters' — particularly dioramas that depict a natural scene as a confined, reproducible, and simplified landscape — I developed an interest in the anthropocentric approach behind conservation efforts and representation of nature.
Accessing the National Park archives was an important moment for me, as I felt like I had discovered a treasure. I carefully sorted through thousands of beautifully taken photos, selecting the ones that resonated with my personal perspective. The archives helped me to provide a 'factual' context for tracing the evolution of conservation practices, shedding light on past actions that now seem unacceptable and opening space for an ethical reflection on the currently adopted methods.
‘Miriam and I first crossed paths in Germany about five years ago when we both had an exhibition at the Triennale Hamburg. That evening it turned out we both wanted to explore more of the Balkan region.’
Collective Work
For several years, you’ve been collaborating with a photographer Miriam Stanke, for example, working on the project A Country Ain't Too Much To Love (2018-2022). The central theme revolves around post-war Bosnia and Herzegovina and the effect it had on the land and generations of people. How did this collaboration start, and how did the narrative develop to include landscapes and portraiture?
Miriam and I first crossed paths in Germany about five years ago when we both had an exhibition at the Triennale Hamburg. That evening it turned out we both wanted to explore more of the Balkan region. We agreed to go on a trip together, and a few months later, we were on the road to Mostar in south Bosnia & Herzegovina. This trip sparked a collaboration between us that focused on the aftermath of war.
We explored how the physical and emotional barriers caused by landmines, contaminated soil, and bullet-ridden buildings in a war-torn landscape contribute to the ongoing ethnic and political segregation. In 2021 we took another trip to Bosnia, this time focusing on the youth who learned about the war not firsthand but through the memories of their elders. We explored their perspectives on how inherited trauma affected them even if they didn't experience the war directly. Working together, we realized that we share similar ethical values based on empathy and respect for the subject — this was crucial to our decision to collaborate as a collective.
In Collaboration with Miriam Stanke
‘I don’t have a set method because I’ve found that trying to force a specific direction or make plans in advance only leads to dissatisfaction, and my desire for control often hinders vulnerability.’
The Methodology
Your projects require a deep analysis of the current situation, research of historical facts, and the creation of a narrative that serves your aesthetical, cultural, and political needs or questions you want to raise. Could you take us through some of the steps that have to do with your methodology: what sparks your interest in a topic, and in what way do you pursue studying it and then working to build a narrative?
My works often deal with marks we leave on others and how life goes on after that. I delve into ethical themes and strive to comprehend the history, political climate, and cultural nuances of the places I visit and observe, making a conscious effort to acknowledge my own privileges and how they may shape my perspective or perpetuate power imbalances.
I approach new projects without a preconceived notion or concept. Instead, I focus on collecting images that resonate with me, letting them form a central theme. I view them as a whole or an installation, where the arrangement, juxtaposition, and layering can create a perspective. My interest lies in the symbolic significance of the images and the associations they evoke rather than relying on a structured narrative.
I don’t have a set method because I’ve found that trying to force a specific direction or make plans in advance only leads to dissatisfaction, and my desire for control often hinders vulnerability. In that regard, using film as a medium helps me introduce an element of uncertainty and limit my control, allowing room for unexpected outcomes.
In Collaboration with Miriam Stanke
In Collaboration with Miriam Stanke
A Sneak Peek
What project/s are you currently working on, and what should we expect next in terms of themes you’re developing?
In 2021, I began a new collaborative project that explores the transgenerational traumas of Soviet occupation in the Baltic countries. The title of the project We Were Longing to Fly, But Not Too Far was inspired by the history of gliding in Lithuania, which was banned when the Soviets occupied the Baltic states in 1940. The project follows the experiences of individuals from different generations and how the 50 years under oppression impacted their lives. It also questions how the cultural identities of these countries have changed and evolved despite facing restrictions.
