Caretaker Studies – Sara Camnasio

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The person I chose for both poses was my step-mother.

The first pose was the concrete pose. Despite most people thought that it was a pose of  questioning another person, or perplexity in front of an art work, it was something that my mom always does when she forgets what she was about to do. It perhaps came out a little too dramatic/theatrical than I expected it to be, but it’s something that when I see it, I picture my mother right away. Because she’s an extremely busy woman, she’s always doing 15000 things at the same time, so it happens very often that she forgets what she was doing. With this pose I also wanted to incorporate her very youthful ego: she has a lot of energy and everyone always thinks she’s much younger than her actual age, and I think the pose I chose was not one of a 40-year-old woman, but rather a 30-year-old one.

The abstract pose I chose had very deep roots. My mother was the last of 7 children, 5 of which males. She had  never been supported by anyone in her family, even when she went to college (something that back then in Italy was reserved to an elite of people) and she was working full time so that she wouldn’t have to ask money to her parents, they told her she was crazy. Even being a 30-year-old responsible mother, she was still being checked on by her father, who would always come ask us where she was and why she wasn’t at home with us the whole time. Her male-dominated family never valued her opinion, and even her sister(who should have allied with her against the attacks of her brothers) always criticized her. Now that we moved here, my mother is finally free to be, or at least more free. Her family still tells her she’s crazy because she moved here. The arms spread out, as if opposing something represent her strength in always being able to push away that criticism and become the amazing woman she is. The head thrown back, looking up, is her wish, partly accomplished, of being free to do what she wants. The foot forward, finally, symbolizes that she always went forward no matter all the negative that surrounded her.

Sara Camnasio

 

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About Sara Camnasio

I'm Sara, yes Sara without the H. I was born in an anonymous town in the middle of nowhere, in the industrial Northern Italy. I grew up with my fingers sticky from pasta dough and my face powdered with flour, helping my grandmother to make the most loved meals in the world. I was tossed in my grandma's arms at age 4—when my parents divorced—and I lived a spoon-fed life until I was 8, when I moved with my father and his new wife to what would have become my hometown. Bosisio Parini—a name that barely appears on any map—was the place I spent most of my life in: two-thousand people, three churches, and the lake, puddle of memories. But despite its stunning beauty, that limiting environment granted no future for us. So I had to jump, take the biggest leap of my life: on the 22nd of December 2009 I moved to the Big Apple with my mother and sister, leaving my dad to Italy to support us financially. I was thrown in the illogical world of slang and French fries, but somehow—fantastically—I managed to become part of it without gaining fifty pounds. I may speak with my hands, but I swear one can barely hear my accent. I feel more American than ever, although I'll never forget my origins; that little village—to me—is that one place where you feel like you left your anchor. I mean—would have been a pretty heavy load to carry overseas, all the way to New York city.