ART: Welcome to the Arroscia Residency, the Arroscia Valley and Pieve di Teco. What are your first impressions? 

CCC: My first feeling is one of deep inner peace. John and Nicola have been wonderful hosts, and thanks to that foundation, I’ve been able to start building connections with the community that have been very rewarding. The people of Pieve don’t hide their curiosity—or their interest—in finding out what we’re doing. They greet me on the street and ask how the work is going, which is very gratifying.

I haven’t been here long enough yet to fully understand how this place works, but I can say that the hospitality of Pieve di Teco, and the genuine smiles they give without expecting anything in return, have already led me, for example, to take part in the grape harvest and to join a birthday celebration at the Red Cross headquarters—which, for me and my work, means a great deal.

ART: How would you describe your artistic style?

CCC: My style is a blend of survival, free experimentation, and memory. My day begins with preparing my equipment—cameras, film, microphones, recorders—all must be ready for action. When capturing an image or transferring negatives onto paper, the more flexible side of me emerges, turning the medium itself into an end.

However, in my solitary hours, working in my improvised laboratory—waiting for the right temperature, when a single gram more or a milliliter less makes all the difference—I find myself reflecting, weaving together the history of Pieve di Teco with its future.

ART: What's the most unusual material you've ever incorporated into your art?

CCC: Unusual is probably the best way to describe my art. In fact, what’s unusual about my work is that I use the conventional. The mere act of stubbornly insisting on analog photography in an age of 8K feels almost subversive—an essential part of who I am.

While searching for discarded wood, weathered by rain and wind, to build my UV printing system for cyanotypes, I ended up with a handful of rusty nails. I told John, as he helped me load the wood into his Fiat Panda, “I think the red of the rust will make a nice contrast with the blue of the prints.”

And so, there I was—experimenting with rust on paper.

ART: Can you walk me through your creative process when starting a new piece?

CCC: The most important thing is to find a driving force—an inner motor—that can carry the process safely to its destination. That requires a solid idea, and the simpler and easier it is to explain, the more successful it will be. This idea becomes a kind of mantra for me, because once it settles into my work, I repeat it silently whenever I can. So each time I face reality and its whims through the lens of my camera, I know with certainty how to guide it—through light, framing, and expression—toward the photograph I’m seeking.

To discover that solid idea, I analyze the situation from three perspectives.
First, my own: understanding where I am and what I truly want to do—because no one wants to lose the will to finish halfway through a project.
Second, the perspective of the place I’m about to immerse myself in: who lives there, what stories they have to tell, and which ones they prefer to keep untold; where it hurts, and what brings them joy.
And finally, I ask myself how my work can contribute to both—artist and place—while acknowledging the tension of space and time that photography inevitably creates, especially in its historical form.

ART: If your art could speak, what would it say about you?

CCC: It would probably say something like, “He is absolutely delightful—get to know him, talk with him, let him invite you to dinner—he cooks fantastically.” My art and I are very close friends; it would never say anything bad about me.

ART: If you could have dinner with any artist (dead or alive), who would it be and why?

CCC: Here I would be a bit cautious—there’s some truth to the saying, don’t meet your heroes. Fortunately, it has happened to me rarely, despite having met and shared a table with many artists I admire. Looking back on my youthful dreams, I would have loved to sit at a table with Violeta Parra and her brother Nicanor, Roberto Matta, Raúl Ruiz, Pedro Lemebel, and, if luck allows, Alejandro Jodorowsky. I mention Chilean artists, perhaps because of the distance, perhaps with the idea of sitting down to talk and ask, “Where are we headed?”

The truth is, in our postmodern world, I am lucky enough to sit at the table daily with exceptional artists—both in Berlin and in Pieve.

ART: What's one piece of advice you'd give to your younger artistic self?

CCC: I would say: “Focus, have confidence, be exactly who you are. You might not see the fruits of your work now, but you will later.” It would have saved me a few existential monologues ;)

To learn more visit Camilo’s website: https://camelstudios.de/werk/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kfroschmann/