Before Digital Cameras: My Summer Studying Photography and Art History in Italy

When I was 19, I spent a summer in Italy studying photography and art history.

We started in Rome, spent most of our time in Florence, and took the train to Venice. It was the summer before my freshman year at LSU, and I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to spend it exploring some of the most beautiful places in Italy.

This was long before digital cameras and smartphones. If you wanted to take photographs, you carried a camera, bought film, and hoped you got the shot.

I brought a film SLR camera and spent the summer taking black-and-white photographs and color slides.

Recently, I pulled out my old photographs and contact sheets from that trip. Nearly thirty years later, I still have them all.

Looking through them brought back memories I hadn’t thought about in years.

The incredible art. The seemingly endless stairs to our rooms in Florence. Early mornings photographing the Arno River. A little neighborhood pub with cider on tap.

There was also one night involving dancing and a ride home on the back of a Vespa.

But we’ll get to that.

My First Darkroom Was My Grandparents’ Bathroom

My interest in photography actually started long before I went to Italy.

My grandfather was an avid photographer, and when I visited my grandparents in Moyie, he introduced me to developing photographs.

He even set up a makeshift darkroom in their bathroom.

Nothing fancy. Just dark towels covering the windows to keep the light out.

But it worked.

I loved the entire process, especially watching an image gradually appear on photographic paper.

By the time I signed up for a photography class in Italy, I was already familiar with working in a darkroom.

What I didn’t know was just how many photographs I’d come home with.

Studying Photography in Italy Before Digital Cameras

Our photography class was taught by Thomas Neff, a photography professor at LSU.

We used film SLR cameras, shooting black-and-white photographs and color slides. Some of our work involved specific assignments, but we also had the freedom to explore and photograph whatever caught our attention.

There was no checking the back of the camera to see whether a photograph turned out. You had to think about your composition, lighting, and exposure, then wait until the film was developed to see the results.

We had our color slides developed while we were still in Italy. Our black-and-white film would be processed when we returned home.

I remember getting up early one morning to photograph the Arno River in Florence. The water was so still that the buildings reflected beautifully on its surface.

That photograph eventually became one of the two prints I sold at my little photography exhibition at Highland Coffees in Baton Rouge.

Looking through my old contact sheets recently, I found the entire sequence of photographs from that morning. Nearly thirty years later, I could see exactly what had caught my attention as I walked along the river.

It’s funny how a photograph can bring back a memory so clearly.

Learning Art History Where It Happened

My art history professor was Mark Zucker, who taught at LSU and specialized in Renaissance art.

I remember being amazed by how much he knew about the places we visited.

Studying art history in Italy was a completely different experience from sitting in a classroom looking at slides of paintings and sculptures.

We were surrounded by the actual artwork and architecture.

Florence, especially, was incredible.

Instead of simply admiring a beautiful building or work of art, we had someone who could explain its history, the artist behind it, and why it mattered.

I wish I could remember all the details Mark shared with us that summer. I know I appreciated his knowledge at the time, but looking back, I realize what a wonderful opportunity it was to experience Italy with someone who understood its artistic history so deeply.

I still remember the feeling of being surrounded by centuries of art and architecture, with a professor who could bring that history to life.

It was an experience I couldn’t have gotten from a textbook alone.

Early Mornings Along the Arno River

One of my clearest memories from Florence is waking up early to take photographs along the Arno River.

I wanted to get out before the city was fully awake, while the light was changing and the streets were still quiet.

I remember walking along the river with my camera, looking for interesting compositions.

One morning, I photographed the buildings along the Arno reflected in the water, with a bridge in the distance and a single streetlamp along the walkway.

I recently found the original contact sheet from that morning.

There it was, surrounded by all the other photographs I’d taken during that walk.

I couldn’t believe I still had it.

That particular image ended up becoming one of my favorite photographs from Italy.

It also became one of the two prints I eventually sold at a little photography exhibition back home in Baton Rouge.

But that’s another part of the story.

An early morning along the Arno River in Florence. I took this photograph when I was 19, and it later became one of the prints I sold at a photography show in Baton Rouge.

The Little Things I Remember About Florence

It’s funny what sticks with you after nearly thirty years.

Of course, I remember the beautiful architecture, the museums, and the art.

But I also remember the ordinary things.

We stayed in something between a dormitory and a hotel, and I remember there was an incredibly long staircase to get to our rooms.

Between climbing those stairs and walking everywhere, I lost quite a bit of weight that summer.

I also remember the outdoor magazine vendors along the streets. There seemed to be so many of them.

There was a pub down the street from where we stayed that served cider on tap. Everyone in our group was ridiculously excited about that.

I couldn’t tell you the name of the pub today, but I remember the cider.

Then there was the night we all went out dancing.

At the end of the evening, some Italian guys on Vespas gave us rides back.

Yes, Vespas.

Apparently, when you’re nineteen and studying abroad in Italy, that seems like a perfectly reasonable way to end the night.

I can only laugh about it now.

Those little moments have stayed with me just as much as the famous places we visited.

Rome, Florence, and Venice

Our trip began in Rome before we settled into Florence for most of the summer.

We also traveled by train to Venice.

I remember photographing the narrow canals, old buildings, little bridges, and boats tied along the water.

One of my favorite black-and-white prints from Venice shows a canal stretching between rows of buildings, with a walkway running alongside it.

Another photograph was taken beneath an old stone bridge, using the bridge itself to frame the scene beyond it.

I still love looking at those images.

Without the colors competing for attention, the shapes, textures, reflections, and architecture become the focus.

There’s something about black-and-white photography that makes even an ordinary street or building feel a little different.

One More Week in Italy With My Parents

When the student portion of my trip ended, my parents met me in Italy, and we spent another week traveling together.

That part of the summer was a completely different experience.

We traveled along the Amalfi Coast, visited a town connected to my grandmother’s family, and took a ferry to Sardinia.

One of the funniest things I remember involved our rental car.

We were supposed to get an American car, but the rental company had run out.

Instead, Dad ended up driving an Alfa Romeo.

On the Amalfi Coast.

If you’ve ever seen photographs of those narrow, winding coastal roads, you can probably imagine what an experience that was.

I still have photographs I took from the car as we traveled along the coast, with steep cliffs and the sea stretching out below.

Looking at those photographs today, I can practically picture us driving along those roads.

Views from our drive along the Amalfi Coast, when Dad unexpectedly ended up behind the wheel of an Alfa Romeo.

Visiting a Place Connected to Our Family

During that week, we also visited the Italian town where my grandmother’s parents had lived.

Unfortunately, I can’t remember the town’s name.

I recently found a black-and-white photograph I took of a small, weathered house with an exterior staircase.

I believe it may have been the house where my great-grandparents grew up, although I’m not certain.

I wish I’d written more information on the back of my photographs!

Still, it’s wonderful to have an image of a place that was connected to our family’s history.

I’ve started trying to piece together a few of those details again, so perhaps I’ll eventually figure out exactly where we were.

Photographs of Mom and Dad

Some of the photographs I’m happiest to have from that final week aren’t landscapes or famous landmarks.

They’re photographs of my parents.

I found one of them hugging, another of them sitting together on old stone steps, and one of Dad and me standing together.

I took these pictures when I was nineteen, and now, all these years later, I’m so glad I did.

When you’re young, you don’t necessarily think about how meaningful an ordinary photograph might become decades later.

You’re just taking pictures of the people you’re traveling with.

Looking at those photographs today is a reminder that some of the most valuable pictures aren’t necessarily the ones you planned to take.

Mom and Dad during the extra week we spent traveling together after my study program ended.

Back Home in the Darkroom at LSU

When I returned home, we processed our black-and-white film and developed our photographs in the darkroom at LSU.

I loved it.

There was something satisfying about going through the entire process, from taking the photograph to developing the finished print.

Today, we can take a picture and see it immediately. We can edit it, crop it, adjust the exposure, and share it with someone in seconds.

Back then, photography required a little more patience.

You couldn’t always be sure what you’d captured until much later.

Sometimes a photograph didn’t turn out the way you wanted. Other times, you ended up with something you loved.

I still remember how exciting it was to see the results.

My Little Photography Show at Highland Coffees

At some point after returning from Italy, I had a small photography exhibition at Highland Coffees, one of my favorite coffee shops in Baton Rouge.

I displayed some of my black-and-white photographs from the trip.

And I actually sold two prints!

One of them was the photograph I’d taken during that early morning walk along the Arno River.

I still get a kick out of that.

I had gotten up early in Florence, walked down to the river with my camera, and taken a photograph because I liked what I saw.

Later, I developed it in the darkroom at LSU.

Then someone saw it hanging in a coffee shop in Baton Rouge and decided they wanted to buy it.

That was a pretty wonderful feeling.

Rediscovering Italy Through My Old Photographs

I recently spent an afternoon going through all my old Italy photographs and slides.

I still have the original contact sheets, black-and-white prints, and color slides.

Some of the photographs brought back memories immediately.

Others left me wondering exactly where I was standing when I took them.

Looking through the contact sheets was especially fun. Instead of seeing one finished photograph, I could see the entire sequence of pictures I’d taken that day.

It reminded me of what photography was like before digital cameras.

You had to be a little more selective about what you photographed, and there was always an element of surprise when you finally saw the results.

I’m glad I held on to everything.

What started as a summer studying photography and art history turned into a collection of memories I can still revisit nearly thirty years later.

I remember the incredible art, the early mornings along the Arno, the endless stairs, and that night we rode home on Vespas.

I remember Dad driving an Alfa Romeo along the Amalfi Coast.

And I’m especially grateful for the photographs of my parents.

I went to Italy to study photography and art history.

All these years later, I still have the pictures.

And apparently, plenty of stories to go with them.

______

Looking back, I’m grateful to Thomas Neff and Mark Zucker for the opportunity to experience Italy through photography and art history. I may not remember every assignment or every historical detail, but I certainly remember the experience.

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