Andrea 32 – Good thing we have smartphones, which my parents still call just “phones” and my English boss “mobile phones”. And those transparent dots up on the screen, that bring us into each other’s homes. The cameras of our real life. In the next few days, I want to keep them on, so that I can celebrate Easter with those who are far, but that I feel close to me. I want to spend part of the lunch with my family, with the cameras on. I want to see the Pastiera in my Neapolitan house’s kitchen, the one with small white tiles of Treviso ceramics that my parents bought back in 1997, when we moved houses. I want to see my grandma’s living room through Telly’s mobile, and I want to hear the sound of the knife cutting Aunt Lydia’s quiche in Benevento. With the cameras on, I want to reunite Aunt Anna from Naples with my cousins who are in Rome. I want to hear the sound of my niece Emma making bread in the kitchen. I want to go to Stefano’s room, to see if there is a Juventus scarf and tell him to take it off, otherwise our uncle gets mad. I want to say hello to my friends, especially those who are home alone: I want to turn on the camera on Antonio’s studio, where he turns on the music and starts training, while he dreams of Sarno’s traditions. I want to say hello to Veronica, who everyday sets the camera by the window from which she “blesses” Trieste. Through Paoletto’s camera, I want to see the food package his mom sent him from Naples, to keep him company during this lonely Easter in Milan. With the cameras on, live from Alba, I want to meet Enea, son of Flaco, born in the Covid period. I want to take a tour of Madrid to hear Sarita saying to me “Feliz Pascua”. I want to point the camera at Clelia’s carpet in her living room, where she’ll celebrate Pasquetta in videoconference with her friends. I want to take a look at my one-bedroom apartment in London, that I left to Filippo. With the cameras on, I want to take a ride in Los Angeles and watch Marco put the casatiello in the oven, while it’s been 9 hours that I’ve already eaten it. I want to go “back down south” from Turin, and greet you all, as I’ve been doing for the last eleven years, by train or plain. I want to do it with the cameras on.
Miriam 32 – I often live with the cameras turned on, because of my job, and that’s why I try to turn them off as soon as I can.
I’ve never done many Instagram live before the 9th of March, for instance.
I believe 5 at most, in six years of life on social media.
At 7 pm, when on set you hear “Thank you all, end of the day!” and the cameras are switched off, I try to preserve myself and my moments of rest. For the same reason, I try to put make up on as little as possible when I’m not working, so to feel “on vacation”.
For a month, I have taken a step forward, or rather more than one. I turned on the cameras in my house. I did it to welcome thousands of people, to allow them to take a peek at my life, not for work or exhibitionism, but to let them understand that today, in front of these cameras, we are all the same. In my moments of despair, this month, I found comfort watching the Instagram live of people I know. It distracted me and made me smile a bit.
That’s why I didn’t run away, even when I had just stopped crying, I didn’t escape when I was so upset that I longer wanted to do the Instagram live I announced.
I decided to turn on the cameras and give away a part of my private life, because I think it’s kind of necessary as well.
I hope that the images from those cameras can truly reach the heart of those watching. Let them do what they were created for: transmit. Images, sounds, but also love, life, hope.
I invite you to join me, dear Andre, tomorrow at 5 pm, on my Instagram live. Cameras on in my living room, refusals not accepted. We will wish a happy Easter to each other, and to whoever wants to join us.