Education/Inspiration
La Strada -- An Interview with Patrick D. Pagnano
By Robert A. Schaefer, Jr.
Jun 5, 2008

 All images © by Patrick D. Pagnano

Uptown Chicago 1971

Five years ago, photographer Anita Chernewski and I decided to team-teach a photography course (Photographic Fundamentals) for New York University’s School of Continuing and Professional Studies. It offered students a look at various aspects of photography, and one of these was studio lighting.  Anita introduced me to Patrick Pagnano, who is an expert on the subject of studio lighting, and we hired him as a guest lecturer for our course.  Not only did Patrick give the students excellent information on studio lighting, he also inspired them with his wonderful images, some of which illustrated his command of studio lighting and others which were part of his large body of street photography—both black & white and color.  This past March we were both at an opening of the Domeischel Gallery, Ltd., and I had a chance to ask Patrick more about his photography and painting.  


Robert Schaefer: Did your background have anything to do with your becoming  an artist?    

Patrick Pagnano: I was born in Chicago, Illinois in 1947. My first five years were spent living in an Italian neighborhood on Taylor Street with my parents and two siblings, sharing a row house with my paternal grandparents. Those years exposed me to a way of life that was rich in tradition.    

I loved to observe my grandfather while he wrote in his diary. He would sit at the dining room table adding entries into his book, pausing to sip some home-made wine from a small glass and slice a piece of fruit with the folding knife he kept in his pocket. He would give me a little wine, diluted with 7-UP or water, and a piece of fruit offered to me on the blade of his knife. Making wine was a yearly ritual. My father Nick and my Uncle Ola, short for Orlando, were responsible for going to market to buy the grapes; hauling out the barrels; cleaning them and tipping them upright. Grandpa would crush the grapes in the massive wooden press that he kept in the cellar, fill the barrels and the fermentation would begin. I always looked forward to accompanying him down to the cellar to check on the progress. Magically, one day the wine would be ready. There were seven barrels of red, one barrel of white and one small cask of vinegar.    

Family life spilled onto the streets of my neighborhood. It was a lively scene filled with vendors selling fruits and vegetables; the rags-a-line man, who rode through the alleyways on his horse-drawn wagon collecting household discards; adults socializing on front stoops with an eye on all the children

Central Park, NYC 1974

playing outside. By the time I was five my parents had saved enough money to buy their first home on the Southwest side of Chicago — a solid blue-collar neighborhood of mixed ethnicity. This was a dramatic change from my early life on Taylor Street. I missed the sense of the street and the feeling of it being an extension of our home.    

In a working class family such as mine, the arts didn’t play a direct or deliberate role in my development; my influences were more tangential. So, I will attribute several things that led to my interest in the visual arts.    

My grandparents photo album: After we moved from Taylor Street, we would visit my paternal grandparents on Sunday mornings. First, I paid my respects, then I would rush to their book of photos that was filled with snapshots of family, friends and events — people sitting on porches and leaning against cars, family outings to the cemetery to tend the graves of relatives, formal portraits and the ubiquitous photos of my dad in uniform in far away places during WWII.     

Our neighborhood Church, St. Charles: This vaulted building dominated the neighborhood both physically and psychologically and gave me an early introduction into the world of art. I remember sitting in the pews during mass, looking at the stained glass windows depicting the stations of the cross. These windows, made by Italian artisans, emitted a multi-colored glow that rendered a spiritual atmosphere to the interior of the church. I also loved to gaze at the statues of the saints, recalling the stories I had learned from the nuns in catechism. Years later, I went to visit the “old neighborhood.” As I drove up to the church, I was stunned to see it being demolished. I asked the crew if I could enter one last time. Wielding hammers, the workers were shattering those remarkable stained glass windows that had made such an impression on me. I found a cardboard box and gathered as many broken shards as possible, attempting to save the memories.     

Chinatown, NYC 1980

An interest in drawing: Inspired by animation, I started drawing at a very young age. My father, recognizing an ability, made an animation board for me and I would get so involved in drawing that friends could not coax me out to play baseball or other pastimes of youth.     

Watching old Hollywood movies: My mom Edith and I would sit together and watch "The Late Show" — a television program in the 1950’s that featured movies. I found these films intriguing — all that was possible was on that little screen, frame after frame — a continuum — nothing static about life.  

Documentary newsreels: Shown before Saturday matinees at the local movie house, these real-life vignettes kept me mesmerized and yearning for my own first-hand adventures and probably contributed to my interest in social realist photography.       


RS: How did you get into photography?  Did you study it formally? Were any teachers particularly instrumental in your photographic development? 

PP: I was sitting in a college marketing class feeling bored and unchallenged. I have to credit a classmate for the fortunate decision to change my direction. He told me about Columbia College in Chicago, an alternative school that focused on communication arts. This was the early 70’s and change was in the air. I decided to enroll and quickly realized I had found my niche. I studied photography, film, drawing and American literature. Photography completely fascinated me and opened a world of possibilities for creative expression. I bought my first camera, a reflex, from one of my buddies who had recently returned from Viet Nam. Trying to shoot on the street with this camera proved difficult for me — it didn’t suit my fluid and intuitive approach. I was cognizant of the fact that some of my favorite photographers used Leicas, so borrowing money from my girlfriend, now my wife, I purchased a silver Leica M4. I really wanted an all-black M4, but could not scrape up the extra $50. This Leica made all the difference for me; now I could react to the moment in an organic manner. Looking through the clear glass viewfinder brought me closer to reality.        

Limo, NYC 1975

Two instructors at Columbia had a lasting impression on me. Jim Newberry, the head of the photography department, instilled a sense of hard work and devotion to the medium; and Harold Allen, visiting artist from the Art Institute of Chicago, taught me the importance of respecting the inherent property of photography — realism. As a teacher, Harold had a gift of understanding what each artist was interested in and guiding that person to find his/her own path to achievement.  


RS: Which photographers have inspired your own imagery? 

PP: The two photographers I admire most are Walker Evans and Robert Frank. Each has a profound respect for realism and his subject. Both bodies of work elevate imagery to the level of good literature. The content of their photographs go beyond the edges of the frame — part of the narrative seems to live before and after the image was captured. There are others I admire, Bill Brandt, André Kertész, Bruce Davidson and Helen Levitt, to name a few. But equally influential to my creative growth are films, literature and painting.                

When we first moved to New York City my day consisted of getting up early and reading; venturing onto the streets and shooting for hours; coming home and reading again. During this phase I enjoyed 19th century Russian literature. A friend of mine, Tony, who is well versed in Russian culture, said that I probably enjoyed these novels because the characters had more miserable lives than mine. My life was not exactly miserable, but the challenge of coming to New York cold, not knowing anyone and not being sure of how I was going to make a living was tough. 


RS: Has your Italian background played a role in your imagery?   

PP: My wife Kari and I moved to New York City in 1974. After a year, I decided to make the first of three extended trips to Italy to explore my heritage and how it might define who I am. My experiences in Italy were all

West 56th St., NYC 1980

positive. I felt great pride in my heritage because of the importance of Italian contributions to culture and because I felt a connection to the people and their way of life, reinforcing my experiences of growing-up in the “Little Italy” area of Chicago.     

Throughout my journeys in Italy, I was energized by the possibilities and anxious to get out and photograph. I did not want to squander a moment of my day. These trips yielded a strong body of work and affirmed and solidified my approach to street photography.     

During a stay in Venice I met Bob, an American from Chicago, who owned Legatoria Piazzesi — the oldest book-binding business in Venice. The shop was filled with beautiful books, and boxes made from papers that were dyed or hand-stamped with ancient carved wood blocks (stampi). Every morning I would walk with Bob to his shop, have a caffè, then head out to shoot. Observing me day after day, he called out to me one morning — “There goes Pasquale, Persa la Bussola” which loosely translates to “Patsy, you lost your compass.” This phrase fairly describes my manner of shooting; intuitively moving through the streets; following subtle details and visual clues. A “stream of consciousness” guides me through my day.        

A year or so after my 1975 trip to Italy, and after shooting black-and-white for about six years, I decided I couldn’t advance the genre of street photography unless I changed my approach, so I began to shoot in color. This was a new challenge. Initially, I shot with Kodachrome and Ektachrome slide film, but the color and latitude limitations were not appealing to me. I wanted a color film akin to Tri-X. At first I was forced to use a slower ASA negative film because faster films did not exist. When ASA 400 color negative film hit the market, I found my medium and I realized that black-and-white photography was finished for me. Color photography brought me closer to interpretive realism. As a social realist, gathering of information is all important and color is vital to this pursuit. The color of light at different times of day; how things appear under artificial and natural light; skin coloration; the color choices of ethnic and social classes and male and female; all combine to form the narrative of my photographs. Subtleties, no matter how slight, are of consequence.    

Man in Cafe, Rome 1975

If I analyze my color palette, I can trace it to my cultural heritage. What I realized about my trips to Italy is that the muted colors of the old master painters, the light and the architecture of Italy had a profound influence on me and my sense of color.     

The body of work produced during these years led to my book, Shot on the Street (published in 2002). “Shot on the Street” not only refers to images that are taken on the street, but more importantly, to the psychological effect of the street. It is a place where races of people and social classes converge and vie for space and mobility with ever-increasing urbanism. The street can excite, anger, defeat and inspire. Its influence and energy never ceases. It is not only felt outside, but permeates the interiors of its structures and minds of its inhabitants.  


RS: What have been some of the highlights of your career in photography? 

PP: There are certain benchmarks in a creative person’s career that boost one’s spirits and help make the process fulfilling. Becoming part of The Museum of Modern Art’s photography collection and being included in the MOMA exhibition “Color Photographs: Recent Acquisitions 1984.”    

That same year, my photographs were included in the all-color issue of Aperture #96 Fall, that also featured William Eggleston, Joel Sternfeld, Lucas Samaras and others.     

I was very honored to be included in a group show at the Art Institute of Chicago called “Harold Allen: Photographer and Teacher 1984.”  I was also invited to be part of the Art Institute of Chicago photography collection.     Another highlight for me was when Bob Schwalberg of Popular Photography, upon the recommendation of Bruce Davidson, asked me to write and illustrate an article for Popular Photography’s SLR on the use of color negative film, not a popular technique at that time: August 1984 / “A Positive View of Negative.” This was a validation for me. Up to this point I had received a lot of criticism for using color negative film and for my approach to color. Bob also convinced the editor at Pop Photo to publish a portfolio of my work in the magazine: August 1985 / “Street Level: Patrick D. Pagnano Fills His Frames with Intimate Images of City Life.” I was surprised and flattered when total strangers approached me on the street because they recognized me from a photo that accompanied the article and portfolio.    

Fidel Castro

On the assignment side of my career, going to Cuba with Dan Rather in 1996 to photograph Fidel Castro was a monumental event for a blue-collar boy from Chicago. Covering seven political conventions for CBS News placed me squarely in the realm of photojournalism, one of my motivations for moving to New York City and resulting in a series I call “Political Take.” Working for consumer magazines such as Business Week, Forbes, Time and Fortune fulfilled my aspirations to work as an editorial photographer. All of these professional assignments put me in situations that tested my skills and exposed me to a very closed world of events and gave me the opportunity to photograph a broad spectrum of iconic people from Castro to President Clinton to Muhammad Ali to Madonna and many, many others. 


RS: Have you explored other art media? 

PP: In the late 80s, I began to spend a portion of my day in the studio creating mixed-media constructions. Polaroids I had taken inspired me and I began attaching them to glass or wood and building compositions with the addition of found objects and paint. Eventually, I stopped shooting on the street and began to spend all of my day in the studio. After 20 years of intense shooting, I needed another new challenge. The constructions evolved into painting on canvas, but the inclusion of photographs remains an integral part of the process. What I love about photography is its intuitive nature and I try to bring this quality to the way I approach a canvas. Two of my current painting series are ‘Weather” and “Endangered.” Although the painterly aspects of the pieces are abstract, the inclusion of photographs keep them anchored in realism and completes the narrative. With these pieces, I continue to be guided by relevant and current topics just as I was in straight photography.  


RS: What does the future hold for your work? 

PP: I haven’t completely stopped shooting, I still work on small essays and photographing nature has become a new pursuit. Visiting the West, especially Arizona, Utah and Montana; reading Edward Abbey; spending time in upstate New York; and traveling to other naturally scenic parts of this country has given me a new consciousness and opened my eyes to nature’s quiet grandeur. I photograph nature as I did the street; using a hand-held 35mm rangefinder with fast color negative film and without a tripod. I approach a landscape making small adjustments through my viewfinder, moving intuitively in relation to the scene and the subtle changes in light and movement — nature is not static. Retaining respect for the subject, whether man or nature, is my objective.                 

Photography will always amaze me; looking at really good photographs is a rare pleasure and can be enlightening. At the present, I see myself continuing to paint and create my mixed media pieces. The excitement of resolving a canvas is the equivalent to the rush of tripping the shutter.  

To contact Patrick and see more of his photography, visit:  www.pagnanoandpagnano.com 
Patrick D. Pagnano is represented by Domeischel Gallery, Ltd. in New York City. Visit the gallery online at: www.domeischelgallery.com/photos_Pagnano1.html 
To purchase Shot on the Street, contact Patrick at: kpagnano@earthlink.net