‘O Mare
“Tempesta nel Golfo di Napoli” by Salvatore Fergola, ca. 1848-59
I recently returned from a trip to Sorrento enriched with a different kind of knowledge than I originally expected to come home with. I had planned the trip around a photography project that would give me first hand access to one of the most ancient professions known to mankind: fishing. I had visited the area many times before and had the opportunity to indulge in the delicacies that the Gulf of Naples is known to offer and that the Neapolitans prepare so well. I was interested in going beyond the kitchen and meeting the men that supply them with a fresh catch daily.
The Gulf of Naples
Marina Grand, Sorrento
Plans were set thanks to the help of my friend Natale; we were to wake up at 3AM on Saturday morning and meet his fisherman friend at the Marina Grande, where we would set off in a gozzo sorrentino (the fishing boat traditionally used by the locals). The fishermen would go about their work and I would document the experience through my lens. I could already envision the moments I would capture of these weatherworn men as they practiced their timeless craft.
The fishermen were prepared to welcome me on their boat; the sea, however, was not. Several days of bad weather and rough tides made it impossible for us to go out. To do so would have been unfruitful and potentially dangerous. Our plans were foiled.
Marina Grande, Sorrento
The Neapolitans have a saying, «Pè mare nun ce stann’ tavern, » that is, “there are no taverns at sea.” It is a capricious, anarchical place that follows no rules but its own. I’ve had to shelf my project until after winter, but I can’t say that I don’t appreciate the valuable insight to Neapolitan culture that the sea gifted me: sometimes, it’s best not to resist le forze maggiori (greater forces), but to go with the flow and revisit things when you and the sea are both ready.
Marina Grande, Sorrento
Neapolitan actor, playwright and poet, Eduardo de Filippo, wrote a beautiful poem about the sea and its tenuous relationship with the Neapolitan people whose lives it has shaped for thousands of years. My recent experience approaching this majestic Neapolitan authority inspired me to share it with you.
Buona lettura:
The Sea
“The sea scares me.”
This is what most people say
when they look at the calm sea,
as calm as a tabletop.
They say it even
in days of Winter
when the sea
rises.
Its waves climb up
to the roofs of houses,
and then on to the mountains.
Holy Virgin…
save our children!
Of course,
I pity
Whoever finds himself
in stormy seas
and loses his life.
I’m the first
to think:
“What a horrible death
This poor man suffered,
How wretched it must have been.”
But he was not murdered.
No, he was killed by the sea.
The sea does not murder.
The sea is the sea,
And it doesn’t know that it scares you.
When I hear it…
Especially at night
when it beats the reef
throwing up hands…
thousands of hands
and arms
and legs
and shoulders…
It is fierce
and it does not care
if it thrashes that reef.
I see that it retreats
and beats itself;
it’s obstinate,
fussy,
stubborn;
it tears in again,
throws its head into it
its shoulders
its arms
its feet
and its knees.
It laughs,
and it cries
because it needs more space to free itself…
As I was saying,
when I hear it,
especially at night,
it’s not that I’d say:
“The sea scares me”,
rather, I’d say:
“The sea is doing what the sea does.”
‘O mare
«’O mare fa paura».
Accussì dice ‘a ggente
guardanno ‘o mare calmo,
calmo cumme ‘na tavula.
E dice ‘o stesso pure
dint’ ‘e gghiurnate ‘e vierno
quanno ‘o mare
s’aizza,
e l’onne saglieno
primm’ a palazz’ ‘e casa
e po’ a muntagne.
Vergine santa…
scanza ‘e figlie ‘e mamma!
Certo,
pe’ chi se trova
cu ‘nu mare ‘ntempesta
e perde ‘a vita,
fa pena.
E ssongo ‘o primmo
a penza’ ‘ncapo a me:
«Che brutta morte ha fatto
‘stu pover’ommo,
e che mumento triste ch’ha passato».
Ma nun è muorto acciso.
È muorto a mmare.
‘O mare nun accide.
‘O mare è mmare,
e nun ‘o sape ca te fa paura.
Io quanno ‘o sento…
specialmente ‘e notte
quanno vatte ‘a scugliera
e caccia ‘e mmane…
migliara ‘e mane
e braccia
e ggamme
e spalle…
arraggiuso cumm’è
nun se ne mporta
ca ce straccia ‘a scugliera
e vveco ca s’ ‘e ttira
e se schiaffea
e caparbio,
‘mperruso,
cucciuto,
‘e ccaccia n’ata vota
e s’aiuta c’ ‘a capa
‘e spalle
‘e bracce
ch’ ‘e piede
e cu ‘e ddenocchie
e ride
e chiagne
pecché vulesse ‘o spazio pe’ sfuca’…
Io quanno ‘o sento,
specialmente ‘e notte,
cumme stevo dicenno,
nun è ca dico:
«’0 mare fa paura»,
ma dico:
«’0 mare sta facenno ‘o mare».
Sorrento, Italy