Cyanotyping thus gave birth to a triple Metamorphosis: photographic, pictorial, graphological. The cyanotype is the ultra-elegant meeting point of photography and painting, at the chronological, historical point of first utterance of the former from the matrix of the latter. The cyanotype was the ultra-elegant vehicle for photographic reproduction of handwritten writing. The cyanotype demonstrates the carnal kinship of PAINTING – PHOTOGRAPHY – WRITING.

The story of Anna Children Atkins shaped my own story in a way that was swift and deeply inspiring, like an impressive individual and collective, female subconscious. A unique psycho-intellectual identification:

The relationship with her/my father, her/my valuable educational nourishment from him, her/my scientific recording occupation (I am a forensic photographer being a forensic graphologist), the monitoring of the pioneering photographic, cyanotype techniques found me in the middle of the summer.

It was then that I met the French-Italian photographer and Dr. of Mathematics, also an experimenter Stéphane Pia. In the midst of his personal quest to rematerialize the dematerialized photographic art. Agonizing goal for me too. From this initiation, and among his other pursuits, emerged a strong, charming cyanotype proposal, based on his previous black and white photographic shots.

I was lucky enough to follow his cyanographic process, from his first attempts, the evolution of materials and methods, his dedication to the beauty of the medium towards a magnificent cyanotype production, which then formed part of his recent first solo photographic exhibition in Paris, at the L'Aiguillage gallery.

With the beneficial comfort that characterizes the conversations of the co_voyageurs, I addressed to him three questions, which, admittedly, had been going through my mind all this time:

How did your involvement with cyanotyping begin? What is attracting you to this approach?

Back in the day, I always prepared my own chemicals for the darkroom. I switched to digital photography in the late ’90s and for almost everyone the development process turned to be a printing process. Recently, I discovered the concept of digital negative and decided to dive in. Cyanotype was the perfect candidate—a new monochromatic approach that works on various supports, is inexpensive, and has a lower environmental impact compared to other alternative processes. This inspired me to start experimenting. I’ve always loved analog processes: the irreproducibility, the ability to break down and improve each step, and the tactile experience they offer. I’m especially drawn to the unique texture and feeling of washi paper. During a trip to Shanghai, I brought back a large supply of this delicate paper, which is challenging to handle when wet—but the results make it worth the effort.

How does cyanotyping fit into your other photographic work and how would you like to develop it?

Cyanotype has become a crucial part of my photographic work, even though I am still at the beginning of this journey. There’s no doubt that digital photography offers far more creative possibilities than film, but film photography served as an invaluable school to me; it teaches you to wait, to anticipate before seeing the results. I believe alternative processes like Cyanotype evoke a similar experience. Feelings are central to photography, as they are to any art form. A few years ago, I switched cameras to reconnect with the tactile experience, reducing the latency between my impulse and the shot.

Cyanotype, for me, is also a deeply tactile process. The blue tones inspire introspection, much like the night, which is my preferred time to develop. With Cyanotype, I create unique pieces—using the same negative, paper, and exposure time can yield different results. I now feel like I’ve taken on a new identity, blending the photographer, the painter, and the alchemist into one. With this new hat I can develop it in many different directions I do not have a precise idea, every day can bring something to experiment

You recently held your first solo exhibition at L' Aiguillage Gallery in Paris with the charmingly original title "The Cyan Boat makes a Street Trip", how did you experience this creative process?

Although I’ve been practicing photography since the 1980s, I had never exhibited my work before. Ten days before the exhibition, I found out I could organize a solo exhibition. It was an incredibly intense period with a clear deadline and no room for failure. That was the plot, the reality is that in those 10 days, I failed very often — and learned so much that it became an absolutely thrilling experience. The exhibition was complex, structured around five chapters with distinct aesthetics, formats, and narratives, all connected by the metaphor of the boat. Most of the images were street photographs, but the overarching story was about an initiatory journey and the discovery of the subconscious’s power. This process was transformative for me—I like to see that expo as my “Rosebud”.

*Photographs by Stéphane Pia from his first solo exhibition at L'Aiguillage gallery in Paris. The last two are my own shots of his photos at the exhibition.