You say you were born in Milan “by mistake.” Do you feel more southern than northern?
Yes, in a way. I find there are too many hypocrites in Milan. Maybe I'm being a little harsh, but I've always been drawn to other places. I've always dreamed of traveling.

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So it wasn't too difficult to leave Milan for Palermo in 1975?
Not at all! When you're 22 and have practically nothing, you don't hesitate to leave. And then, it was a different era, the end of what is known in France as the Trente Glorieuses (the Glorious Thirty). We weren't afraid to leave. We were freer, we traveled by hitchhiking, etc. Generally, Sicilians leave their island to look for work, but I did the opposite.

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Were you confronted with the consequences and impact of the Sicilian mafia on society as soon as you arrived?
No, because the Mafia isn't obvious. If you're just passing through, you hardly notice anything. To see the impact of the Mafia on a society, you have to live there, because it's in everyday life that the Mafia infiltrates.

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You then became a press photographer, committed to fighting organized crime. How did you get started?
I had the opportunity to work for a local newspaper, L'Ora (a former Sicilian daily newspaper, founded in 1900, which ceased publication in 1992, editor's note). It was a precarious job, but I was young and had free time. I already had some knowledge of photography, but I was aiming for a career in theater. 

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In your photos, there is a certain closeness with the subjects, as if you were invisible. How did you manage to get so close, to enter into their private lives?
It's a myth to think that the photographer is invisible. That's not true; on the contrary, you have to make sure you're visible. Photography is about relationships, and you have to be very respectful of reality and the people you photograph. I try to fade into the background as much as possible, but without disappearing altogether. The most important thing, and I can't stress this enough, is the relationship between the photographer and others.​​

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You say that you explore the relationship between appropriation of territory and social practices through photography. So you take a sociological approach?
Yes, it's related to what I explained earlier about the relationship between the photographer and the people photographed. There is a question that needs to be answered, which is: how can photography be used as a source of knowledge?

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Did this approach mean that your work took up a lot of your time?
It took up all our time, actually! I couldn't go to the movies without leaving a number where I could be reached in case of emergency; we didn't have phones back then. I was ready to drop everything to go out into the field; that's what the job requires. It's a kind of social and civic service.

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Especially since you were confronted with the daily violence of the mafia on Sicilian society. Can you get used to violence?
No, you never get used to it. Even though, sadly, I've seen a lot of deaths, you always feel something. Sometimes I knew the victim... But that's the job. The difficulty is staying focused on our work in all circumstances. We had to do our job because it was important. We were showing the true face of the mafia.

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You founded the Giuseppe Impastato Anti-Mafia Documentation Center. Can you tell us about it?
Giuseppe Impastato was an Italian journalist who was killed by the mafia. He denounced mafia practices, particularly in his village of Cinisi. Our initiative, which bears his name in his honor, brought together journalists, intellectuals, photographers, and even politicians who wanted to fight against so-called “official” information, which was secretly controlled by organized crime because they wanted to hide the truth. We were a kind of counter-information group.

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After decades of violence, the Sicilian population expressed widespread discontent with the Mafia. What do you think was the trigger?
There was a gradual awareness and expansion of anti-Mafia movements. What is now known as the second Mafia war (in the early 1980s, editor's note) was very deadly. There was an escalation of violence, which ultimately led to protests within Sicilian society. I think the assassination of Judge Giovanni Falcone (May 23, 1992, editor's note) was the straw that broke the camel's back. People no longer hesitated to hang white sheets from their windows to show that they were against the mafia. The political class finally reacted firmly. In any case, the mafiosi were going further and further; Toto Riina even wanted to impose his laws on the political class. This was not accepted.

 

At the time, did you come under pressure from the mafia?
Yes, but that's part of the job. When you commit to a cause, you are inevitably exposed. Whether it's in photography, journalism, the police, or even politics. You take risks, which are multiplied if you are isolated or unsupported. That's where the real danger lies, because the mafia will not hesitate to come after you.

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As a photographer, you were committed to showing the true face of the mafia system. Is the image we have of the mafia wrong?
The image of the mafia portrayed in entertainment, particularly in movies, is completely false. Francis Ford Coppola's film The Godfather is not reality. There is a kind of idealized image that is conveyed through the arts. Our job is to show reality, even if it hurts and criminals don't like it, because they use the image they create to their advantage, wanting to pass themselves off as philanthropists, defenders of the poor and the common people. So we were going against the grain, but we were in touch with reality. Take Bernardo Provenzano, one of the biggest mafiosi in Sicily. He didn't live in a sumptuous palace. He lived in a shabby house, lost in the depths of Sicily, cloistered like a monk. Some peasants had nicer homes, I think.

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In addition to photography, you have a second passion, which is theater. At the time, you set up a theater stage in the psychiatric hospital in Palermo. Was it a way to escape from everyday life?
It's linked to my passion for photography and everything related to social sciences. The theater lasted a few years. We were a close-knit group. When we had the opportunity to go to the psychiatric hospital in Palermo, we didn't hesitate. These patients had stimulus problems, and we wanted to interact with them as much as possible. We managed to put on a play and even made a film. Once, we even invited a punk band to come and perform at the hospital! It was the outside world that came to the hospital, not the other way around.

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You now live in Marseille, but you still keep an eye on Sicily. In 2021, does the mafia still have a hold on Sicilian or Italian society?
Let's just say that the mafia is still present. But it has changed, just like society. Too often, when we think of the mafia, we think of murder, bloodshed, in short, the armed wing. But organized crime is not limited to that. Just as it is not limited to Sicily or Italy, the mafia is present throughout the world. It infiltrates society and therefore the economy, through public procurement, for example. The mafia generates enormous wealth through its many legal fronts. Laws are not the same everywhere, and the mafia knows this well. It therefore goes where there are loopholes. If we want to fight the mafia effectively, we need to harmonize the legal arsenal of countries and create synergy, at least within the European Union.