Sconfinamenti
Sonfinamenti: resistenze culturali in terre lontane
Spesso non ci rendiamo conto di quante cose dimentichiamo finché una situazione, un oggetto o una persona non ce lo ricordano. Quei ricordi e quei dettagli trascurati nella vita di tutti i giorni, persino dimenticati, riaffiorano come tesori in una terra lontana, diventando preziosi nella nostra memoria.Vedere un ramo secco di ulivo benedetto posto sopra la testiera del letto di Gina a Melbourne, mi ha riportato alla casa dei miei nonni, e alle domeniche, quando dopo una mattinata di caccia, mio nonno, mio padre e mio zio esponevano sul tavolo i fagiani che avevano catturato. Poi, tutti riuniti per il pranzo, parlavano di caccia.
Parlo da emigrante. Sono emigrata felicemente scoprendo una nuova vita in Australia. Attraverso la fotografia, ho trovato opportunità sia nel campo lavorativo che in quello artistico. Sono appassionata di story telling e ho usato la fotografia come strumento per scoprire e conoscere questo straordinario paese multiculturale. Negli anni ho avuto occasione di incontrare diversi italiani e sono rimasta affascinata dalle loro storie.Vedere chi, dopo 60 anni, fa ancora la pomarola in casa, “come una volta”, con i barattoli bolliti nel paiolo, mi ha fatto ricordare alla fine delle estati, ai campi di pomodori pronti a diventare il sugo
più amato dai bambini, al sudore sulla fronte delle nonne che sfidavano le temperature ancora estive per preparare decine di barattoli come scorta per l’inverno.
Questi incontri hanno fatto riemergere un profondo sentimento di appartenenza alle radici e alla cultura in cui sono cresciuta.
Questi anziani, che abbandonarono l’Italia da giovani, nel secondo dopoguerra, in cerca di
migliori opportunità, mi hanno accolta e fatto sedere al tavolo di cucina come si fa con una persona di famiglia. La loro calda ospitalità, il modo in cui veniva preparato il caffè, veniva servito lo zucchero, biscotti e dolci fatti in casa. Guardandomi intorno, notavo piccoli oggetti che evocavano ricordi d’infanzia. Ascoltare storie di guerra, storie di fascisti e partigiani, storie d’amore, di dolore e di morte, mi riportavano alla mente i ricordi della mia infanzia.
Mi son vista catapultata nel passato, dove, a casa dei miei nonni, ascoltavamo queste storie, tutti riuniti attorno al tavolo della cucina. Avevamo pane con olio o, pane burro e zucchero per merenda, mentre la nonna rammendava i calzini con un uovo di legno come supporto. Momenti che adesso riaffiorano con nostalgia, ripensando a come il tavolo della cucina da un lato era usato per fare la pasta o “piegare” i panni, mentre dall’altro, facevo i compiti, lo stesso tavolo dove, nelle emergenze, la mamma mi faceva sedere per disinfettare le ginocchia sbucciate con l’acqua ossigenata dopo una caduta.E ancora ricordo il profumo dei fichi mangiati direttamente dagli alberi, la spensieratezza, le avventure, le scoperte, l’ingenuità e l’entusiasmo della vita vista con gli occhi di una bambina.
Gli oggetti (ri)trovati nelle case di Maria, Pietro, Gina, Ubaldo, Gianna ed Emanuele, conservati negli anni, messi in bella vista o sistemati negli angoli, mi hanno fatto pensare ad una volontà di resistere, di opporsi all’oblio della memoria e delle proprie origini mantenendo piccoli ‘rituali’ quotidiani, come usare le ricette di una volta quasi ogni giorno, continuare i ricami o i lavori a maglia anche se ormai gli occhi e le mani non sono più quelli di un tempo. Vivere tra quei piccoli oggetti conservati per oltre mezzo secolo, portati in Australia durante la migrazione, diventa un’ancora alla propria cultura. In una terra straniera, dove manca il familiare, questi oggetti diventano essenziali per mantenere i legami con ciò da cui si è dovuti fuggire, preservando così la propria identità culturale.
Ed io, me ne stavo seduta al tavolo della loro cucina, rivivendo i ricordi dimenticati, mangiando biscotti e assaporando il privilegio di ascoltare le storie straordinarie di queste persone comuni.
Sabrina Lauriston
Crossings: Cultural Resistances in Distant Lands
Often, we do not realise how many things we forget until a situation, an object, or a person reminds us of them. Those memories and those details neglected in everyday life, even forgotten, resurface like treasures in a distant land, becoming precious in our memory.
I speak as an emigrant. I emigrated happily, discovering a new life in Australia. Through photography, I found opportunities in both the professional and artistic fields. I am passionate about storytelling, and I have used photography as a tool to discover and know this extraordinary multicultural country. Over the years, I have had the occasion to meet different Italians, and I have remained fascinated by their stories. These encounters made a deep feeling of belonging to the roots and to the culture in which I grew up re-emerge.
These elderly people, who had abandoned Italy as youths in the second post-war period in search of better opportunities, welcomed me and made me sit at the kitchen table as one does with a family member. Their warm hospitality, the way the coffee was prepared, the sugar was served, the homemade biscuits and sweets. Looking around, I noticed small objects that evoked childhood memories. Listening to stories of war, stories of fascists and partisans, stories of love, of pain, and of death, brought back to my mind the memories of my childhood.
I saw myself catapulted back in time to when, at my grandparents' house, we listened to these stories, all gathered around the kitchen table. We had bread with oil or bread, butter, and sugar for a snack, while the grandmother mended socks with a wooden egg as a support. Moments that now resurface with nostalgia, thinking back to how the kitchen table on one side was used to make pasta or "fold" clothes, while on the other, I did my homework; the same table where, in emergencies, mum made me sit to disinfect skinned knees with hydrogen peroxide after a fall.
Seeing a dry branch of blessed olive placed above Gina's bed headboard in Melbourne brought me back to the house of my grandparents, and to the Sundays, when, after a morning of hunting, my grandfather, my father, and my uncle displayed on the table the pheasants that they had captured. Then, all gathered for lunch, they spoke of hunting. Seeing those who, after 60 years, still make tomato sauce at home, "like once upon a time," with the jars boiled in the cauldron, made me remember the end of the summers, the fields of tomatoes ready to become the sauce most loved by children, the sweat on the forehead of the grandmothers who defied the temperatures that were still summery to prepare dozens of jars as a supply for the winter.
And again, I remember the scent of figs eaten directly from the trees, the lightheartedness, the adventures, the discoveries, the naivety, and the enthusiasm of life seen through the eyes of a girl. The objects (re)found in the houses of Maria, Pietro, Gina, Ubaldo, Gianna, and Emanuele, preserved over the years, put on display or arranged in corners, made me think of a will to resist, to oppose the oblivion of memory and of one's own origins by maintaining small daily "rituals," like using the recipes of once upon a time almost every day, continuing the embroideries or the knitting work even if by now the eyes and the hands are no longer those of a time.
Living among those small objects preserved for over half a century, brought to Australia during the migration, becomes an anchor to one's own culture. In a foreign land, where the familiar is missing, these objects become essential to maintain the ties with that from which one had to flee, thus preserving one's own cultural identity. And I, I was sitting at their kitchen table, reliving the forgotten memories, eating biscuits, and savouring the privilege of listening to the extraordinary stories of these common people.
Sabrina Lauriston
Notes on Italian Immigration in Australia
After the Second World War, many Italians moved to Australia in search of better opportunities; it is estimated that over 350,000 people arrived from 1947 to 1971. Most of the immigrants came from southern Italy, with Campania (Naples) leading, followed by Sicily, Calabria, and Puglia, but there was also a significant number of departures from northern Italy. The key areas of northern Italy that contributed to this immigration included Lombardy, Veneto, Emilia-Romagna, and Piedmont. This migration greatly shaped the economy and culture of the new continent.
The main ports of entry for immigrants were Fremantle and Melbourne, where people were sorted according to work opportunities and labour shortages in sectors such as fishing, construction, and agriculture. Italians managed to adapt to linguistic and cultural differences and to hard work across various sectors of the Australian economy. Over time, they managed to create communities that were an expression of their cultural identity.
In Melbourne, Italian cuisine became a significant part of the city's culture; Italian restaurants and cafes became increasingly popular and were considered landmarks of the local economy. But Italians also contributed to the growth of the manufacturing and construction sectors. In Fremantle, Italian fishermen contributed to the birth and development of the maritime and fishing industry, while in Queensland, they played an important role in agriculture, particularly in the cultivation of sugarcane.
Even though Italian immigration to Australia continues today, it has slowed compared to the post-war period, and it is now skilled migration rather than mass migration. According to the Department of Home Affairs, Italy remains one of the main countries of origin for resident migrants. Today, about 1.5 million people of Italian origin live in Australia, making it one of the largest ethnic groups in the country, especially given that the Australian population in 2024 is just over 26 million.
The few elderly Italians who immigrated in the post-war period continue to maintain their cultural traditions and customs in their homes. The preservation of traditional culinary recipes, language, objects, uses, and customs is a symptom of a strong attachment to Italian heritage to be passed down to younger generations. Melbourne is a lively city, known for its diverse culinary scene. One of the fascinating aspects of the city is seeing, through the windows of Italian restaurants, people demonstrating the art and tradition of Italian cuisine, such as the preparation of homemade pasta. The Fremantle Welcome Wall is a significant attraction that pays tribute to the city's rich history and diverse cultural heritage. The wall is adorned with plaques bearing the names of individuals and families who made the journey.
