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Two new photography books of mine have just been published.
One is about Berlin,
and the other is about Milan.
Enjoy reading them and... enjoy the photos!

Brera, bianca & nera Berlin changes Colors
Mobirise

Brera: Bianca & nera 

Giulio Busi, Brera, bianca & nera, FPBP, Castiglione delle Stiviere, 2025,
170 p., 84 b&w photos
ISBN 8894537463

"Brera, bianca e nera" is a photographic portrait of an historic, vibrant, contradictory neighborhood. Brera is one of Milan's most vital souls. Fashion, artists, tourists. And then there are museums, churches, libraries, bars, open-air markets: Brera has everything, anything (or almost anything) can happen here, people study, have fun, admire. People come to see and be seen, or try to live here, even though it is increasingly expensive, almost impossible, to find a place here, one's own place. In medieval documents, it is referred to as the “braida,” or the free land on the outskirts of the town. The etymology is Longobard, and in German, the word “breit” is still used today to indicate something that is “wide.” Very little of that width remains, as space is precious. The Navigli have disappeared, buried for hygiene and speculation reasons almost a century ago. On the other hand, the shop windows in Brera are beautiful, creative, and luxurious. And then there are the people. How can you not be tempted? Faces, gestures, rapid movements, and friendly glances. "Brera, bianca e nera", welcomes you with open eyes. And even if you close your eyes, it will still amaze you.

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Mobirise

Berlin changes Colors

Giulio Busi, Berlin changes Colors, FPBP, Castiglione delle Stiviere, 2025, 270 p., 132 color photos
ISBN 8894537455

During the day, Berlin can be gray, subdued in a metallic tin-colored lustre. But at night, its colors come alive.They are whirlwinds of light, lighting up here and there. Under the streetlights, along the beams of light projected by the shop windows, the colors of Berlin change, vibrate, enveloping the outlines of buildings and the faces of passersby.
There are those who seek the soul of Berlin in the transgression of its nightclubs, in music, in poverty, in opulence. If you want to follow me, we will try to find this soul behind the surface of gray, blue, and magenta. Splendor, misery, excitement remain unchanged, but the shades do not; they morph like the skin of a chameleon.
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For at least forty years, the camera has been
the faithful companion of my life, and of my travels.


Between the 1980s and 1990s, I traversed the length and breadth of India, Indonesia, Cambodia, Laos, without ever giving up my Leica. A gift from my father, indeed a “loan,” as he pointed out, even though we both knew I would never give it back to him. Not only did I not give it back to him, I did worse. At one point, enticed by the lure of digital photography, I sold Dad's camera. Only to buy back the same model (a Leicaflex SL) decades later and start using it again. Another of my father's cameras, which I did not take on trips because I was afraid of losing it, was a Hasselblad 500. Also at some point sold. And recently bought back, to repair the great wrong I had done to it. And that I had done to myself.


In my imagination, photography is linked to the mysterious movement of gears, the click of the shutter, the magic of lenses to be mounted, changed, cared for as if they were lovers. The camera is, in Italian, feminine. I realize that, seen through today's eyes, these images savor of the past. And of machismo. But it is one thing to reflect, in retrospect, on the stereotypes of masculinity of the old days. And it is quite another thing to caress a camera, to hold it in your hand, to make love to it,
and not even that metaphorically.


From this love my photographs are born. And also from a further one, of love. That for my wife Silvana, my only, wonderful, model, provided she is willing to let herself be photographed.


Those who always willingly let themselves be photographed
are the cities in which I live.

Berlin is a provocative, aggressive, sometimes somber,
never banal model.
Milan does not disfigure in the comparison, although it is more petite, polite, refined. If you court her a little, you will see how sensual she becomes.


Those who browse through my photos can tell right away. I like colors, and I love to change them, to tack them, to twist them. My photos alter themselves. I discover them, scrutinize them, ponder them, as one reflects on dreams, when one barely remembers them, just waking up. What did I dream, really, I ask myself, and meanwhile the apparitions fade away. What have I photographed, really, I wonder, as I watch the colors of the world, of cities, of faces, melting faster than reflections on the water of a lake.
And since I began this story by talking about the Leica and youthful travels to the East, here is an image of Indonesia, taken in 1997. According to my recollection, it is the temple complex of Borobudur. I did not check, doing violence to my training as a philologist. I prefer, for once, to remain vague. The image comes from a vision, and to the inner vision it returned.
Mobirise
I took hundreds, better thousands, of photos of Berlin.
Here are a few, with rare appearances of Silvana, and lots of sunshine.
Not that the sun appears so often here.
All the more reason to rush to photograph it as soon as it peeps out.
Mobirise

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