Alessandro Crapanzano - Between the Negative and the Material
Alessandro Crapanzano - Between the Negative and the Material
Throughout the history of photography, the print has not always been understood as a faithful reproduction of the image recorded on the negative. By the late nineteenth century, Pictorialist photographers were exploring processes that allowed them to alter tonal relationships, suppress detail, manipulate the image surface and introduce qualities associated with painting and printmaking. Gum bichromate printing held
a particular attraction. By working with pigment suspended in a light-sensitive coating of gum arabic, photographers could develop an image through successive exposures and layers, intervening directly in its appearance. The negative provided the basis for the image, but the final result depended heavily on decisions made during printing. Robert Demachy, one of the leading figures of French Pictorialism, used these possibilities to transform photographic records into images bearing unmistakable traces of the artist’s hand. In Une Balleteuse (1900), he reduced the detail in the background and introduced effects reminiscent of traditional printmaking. Such interventions carried significance beyond their visual appeal. At a time when photography was still struggling to establish its position among the fine arts, the visible involvement of the artist offered evidence of individual interpretation and creative authorship.¹
More than a century later, photography no longer needs to defend its legitimacy as an artistic medium.
It occupies an established place in museums, galleries and contemporary art collections, while digital technologies have introduced possibilities for manipulating images that earlier photographers could scarcely have imagined. Yet historical photographic processes continue to attract artists. Their relevance today lies partly in the questions they raise about the photographic print, the relationship between an image and its physical form, and the part played by material processes in creating a work of art. A useful perspective can be found in Photographs Objects Histories: On the Materiality of Images, edited by Elizabeth Edwards and Janice Hart. The volume considers photographs as material objects whose physical properties, histories and patterns of use contribute to their meaning.² Applied to contemporary alternative photographic processes, this approach draws attention to the print as the tangible outcome of a series of actions, many of which remain visible in the finished work.
The work of Italian artist Alessandro Crapanzano offers a particularly revealing example. He has worked for many years with gum bichromate, cyanotype and calotype, although gum bichromate occupies the central position in his practice. The photographic negative becomes the starting point for a process of interpretation involving pigment, light and direct manual intervention. His choice of support is equally important. Works made on wood, sometimes incorporating acrylic or oil paint, can resemble paintings while retaining their foundation in photographic processes. For Alessandro Crapanzano, gum bichromate is not a historical formula to be faithfully reconstructed. It is a flexible method of image-making, one in which the properties of materials can influence the direction of a work as it develops.
From Negative to Image
Alessandro Crapanzano was born in Agrigento, Sicily, in 1973. He moved to Rome in 1993, where he studied at La Sapienza University. His interest in photography developed initially through self-directed exploration, followed by three years of training at Rome’s Arte e Mestieri school. It was there that he discovered gum bichromate, a process that would eventually become central to his artistic practice.³ In written responses provided for this research, he recalls that although black-and-white photography continues to fascinate him, he never felt a particularly strong attachment to analogue photography. Gum bichromate offered something he had been seeking: the freedom to intervene physically in an image. He was drawn to working with pigment, directing the movement of the brush, controlling the gesture and allowing the image to develop through the interaction between his actions and the photographic process. Its unpredictable qualities were just as important, opening possibilities that could not be entirely determined in advance.⁴
His account complicates the tendency to associate alternative photography primarily with nostalgia for the analogue past. Alessandro Crapanzano does not describe his choice of process as an attempt to return to an earlier, supposedly more authentic form of photography. What interests him is the creative freedom afforded by a particular technique, especially the opportunity to shape an image after the photographic exposure has already taken place. The negative remains essential, but it does not determine every characteristic of the finished work. Decisions about colour, tonal relationships and the overall appearance of the image continue throughout the printing process.
Alessandro Crapanzano documented his working methods as early as 2015 in a text published on his blog, Il mio procedimento per la stampa artigianale alla gomma bicromata. Rather than presenting a fixed procedure, he describes an approach that he adapts according to the result he wishes to achieve. He generally works from a single contact negative matching the dimensions of the print, instead of preparing separate negatives for individual colours. After preparing the paper or wood support, he applies a mixture of gum arabic, potassium dichromate and pigment. Once the coating has dried in darkness, he exposes it to sunlight through the negative. The image is developed in water, sometimes with the assistance of a brush or a stream of water to remove the unexposed material. Only after the print has dried can another layer be applied.⁵ Repeating this sequence allows him to build colour and tonal depth gradually. In his 2015 account, Alessandro Crapanzano describes works requiring nine or ten exposures over several days. In our recent correspondence, he explains that some prints now contain as many as twelve layers. Each stage modifies what has already been established. Different pigments, exposure times and methods of developing the coating contribute to the final appearance. The process also enables him to adjust the balance between warm and cool tones. Not every intervention is intended to produce an expressive effect; some are practical responses to technical or colour-related problems that emerge while the image is being made.
A distinctive feature of his practice is his reliance on sunlight rather than artificial UV exposure units. Working with natural light requires constant attention to changing weather conditions, and years of experience have taught him to assess the available light and adjust exposure times accordingly.⁶ The outcome depends on preparation and technical knowledge, but also on the ability to respond to circumstances as they arise. Alessandro Crapanzano acknowledges that he has gradually gained greater control over the process. Its unpredictability, however, remains one of the qualities he values most.
When asked specifically about the relationship between the original negative and the finished work, he explained that he normally begins with a reasonably clear idea of the result he wants to achieve. Yet the first layers of pigment can suggest possibilities he had not considered. Sometimes he incorporates these discoveries into the work in progress; on other occasions, he saves them for a future piece.⁷ This reveals the importance of knowledge acquired through making. The initial concept is not abandoned, but it may evolve in response to what happens on the print surface. The artist retains the authority to make decisions while remaining receptive to unexpected developments. An individual print can therefore generate ideas that extend beyond the work itself.
This relationship between intention and material experience can be considered alongside Tim Ingold’s account of making in Making: Anthropology, Archaeology, Art and Architecture. Ingold approaches creative work as an activity in which form emerges through an ongoing engagement with materials, rather than simply through the execution of a fully predetermined design.⁸ There is no evidence that Alessandro Crapanzano consciously draws upon this theoretical framework, but it offers a useful way of understanding his practice. The point is not to attribute independent intentions to the materials. Wood, pigment and light present particular possibilities and constraints, which the artist learns to recognise and negotiate. Technical knowledge expands his control without removing the need to experiment.
Material and Memory
This relationship becomes especially apparent in Alessandro Crapanzano’s work on wood. He frequently prepares the support with acrylic or oil paint, sometimes establishing a coloured ground before applying successive gum bichromate layers. Wood has its own structure and variable properties, which may either facilitate the process or make it more difficult. In his account, the support is far from a neutral surface onto which an image is transferred. Its character affects both the making of the print and the options available to him as the work develops. Documentation associated with the exhibition Akragas, together with the artist’s own records, provides examples of gum bichromate combined with acrylic paint, oil pastels and different forms of wooden support. These choices demonstrate how significant the preparation of the surface can be, even before the first photographic exposure.
Alessandro Crapanzano also draws attention to the experience of viewing his finished works at different distances. From across a room, the successive layers merge into a coherent image. As the viewer approaches, the surface reveals individual deposits of pigment and traces of the various stages through which the print has passed. He compares these small areas of colour to pixels. The analogy is striking because it borrows a concept associated with digital imaging to describe the physical surface of a handmade print. In both cases, separate elements appear to form a unified image when seen from a sufficient distance. In a gum bichromate print, however, those elements are actual deposits of pigment, produced through coating, exposure and development. Moving closer to the work reveals the distinction between the photographic representation and its material construction. It is here that the perspective developed by Elizabeth Edwards and Janice Hart becomes particularly productive: the physical print contributes to the experience of the image rather than merely carrying it.
Technical experimentation is only one aspect of Alessandro Crapanzano’s practice. His work also explores landscape, trees, the human figure and subjects associated with memory and inner experience. The exhibition Akragas, presented in 2016 at Honos Art in Rome alongside the Spanish painter Luis Serrano, offers an opportunity to consider how these concerns intersect. The accompanying catalogue, edited by Sandra Pinto, included her essay Open air and a text by Alessandro Crapanzano entitled Tracce.⁹
Sandra Pinto identified an intriguing relationship between the two artists. Both explored similar subjects, particularly trees and Sicilian landscapes, but approached them through different media. In her interpretation, Luis Serrano’s paintings could suggest photographic precision, while Alessandro Crapanzano’s photographs acquired painterly characteristics.¹⁰ The exhibition therefore brought together practices that could appear visually related despite their different technical foundations. It demonstrated the difficulty of identifying a work’s medium from its appearance alone. The photographic origin of Alessandro Crapanzano’s images was not necessarily immediately apparent, while their painterly qualities did not diminish their dependence on photographic processes.
Trees have become one of the most recognisable subjects in his work. They featured in Mutar d'alberi, exhibited at Galleria Nardi in Rome in 2016, and subsequently in Nel giardino perduto, presented at the Biblioteca Guglielmo Marconi in 2019. In her accompanying text for the latter exhibition, Beatrice Mastrorilli situated Alessandro Crapanzano’s images within the landscape of the Mediterranean, the memory of place and the artist’s connection to Sicily. She discussed his representations of olive trees, almond trees, prickly pears and fig trees, recognising meanings that extended beyond the description of natural forms.¹¹ Her reading resonates with Alessandro Crapanzano’s own account, although the two should not be treated as interchangeable. The artist speaks of memory, transformation and introspection, as well as a sense of shared destiny between human beings and other forms of life. Nature provides him with subjects through which personal experiences and emotions can find visual expression.
Colour plays a particularly important role in Nel giardino perduto. Some motifs appear in different chromatic versions, including Nel giardino perduto (black version) and Nel giardino perduto (red version), both produced using gum bichromate on wood.¹² Changing the dominant colour can alter the character of a familiar subject without necessarily transforming its underlying structure. Here, the technical possibilities of gum bichromate are closely connected to the artist’s expressive intentions. The layered process allows him to develop the atmosphere of an image gradually, with colour influencing how the landscape is experienced.
Nature is by no means his only subject. Earlier exhibitions, including Luce oscura in 2014 and Nudo dentro in 2015, reveal an interest in the human body, emotional experience and introspective imagery.¹³ Luce oscura explored psychological tension, feelings of confinement and attempts to overcome internal barriers. Some of the works were inspired by Chérie Roi’s performance Le Baptème Des Vices, presented in Rome in 2012. This part of Alessandro Crapanzano’s practice is an important reminder that gum bichromate serves a wide range of subjects in his work. What connects them is his interest in the expressive possibilities of the image, rather than a commitment to any single category of subject matter.
Between Photography and Painting
The relationship between photography and painting is fundamental to Alessandro Crapanzano’s approach. Over time, he has become increasingly conscious of the possibilities offered by bringing the two media together. Photography supplies the starting point, but the negative, colour, surface and successive manual interventions all contribute to the final image. He sees little reason to classify his works unequivocally as photographs, prints or paintings. Interestingly, this position has practical consequences. In our correspondence, he describes difficulties encountered when entering competitions whose rules require works to be submitted under a single artistic category.¹⁴ The ambiguous status of his images is therefore more than a theoretical concern. It exposes the limitations of institutional classifications that do not always reflect the ways contemporary artists actually work.
There is no indication, however, that Alessandro Crapanzano seeks to sever his connection with photography. His work remains grounded in the negative, the light-sensitive coating and the exposure process, even when the final image departs considerably from its initial conception. This distinction is equally important when considering his relationship with Pictorialism. The artist recognises a shared resistance to the idea of photography as nothing more than the mechanical reproduction of reality. At the same time, he acknowledges the considerable differences between his own artistic circumstances and those of the historical Pictorialists. For him, photography is primarily a means of personal expression,
a way of communicating his experience and perception of the world.¹⁴
A comparison with Robert Demachy illustrates how the same process can serve different purposes at different moments in photographic history. For the French Pictorialist, manual intervention in the print was closely associated with the belief that the visible presence of the artist’s hand could demonstrate photography’s artistic character. Alessandro Crapanzano employs comparable technical possibilities, but his motivations are different. He is interested in the freedom to construct an image, to experiment and to respond to developments within the process itself. Painterly qualities no longer need to justify photography’s place within the fine arts. They form part of the vocabulary through which an artist can develop a distinctive visual language.
In this context, the way Alessandro Crapanzano describes the evolution of his technical knowledge is revealing. At first, simply producing a satisfactory print felt like a considerable achievement. Gradually, he learned how materials behaved, how to prepare negatives, assess atmospheric conditions and select appropriate technical solutions. He also came to recognise situations in which cyanotype might produce
a better result, or in which combining gum bichromate with a painted ground would offer greater possibilities.⁶ Experience expanded his range of choices without eliminating uncertainty. He continues to approach the process as an open field of experimentation that demands observation, judgement and a willingness to explore new solutions. Gum bichromate thus fulfils several functions within his practice.
It enables him to interpret the photographic record, build colour and tonal relationships, incorporate the physical character of the support and develop the artistic concept itself. The experience of making is equally significant, since each stage can introduce unforeseen possibilities. Alessandro Crapanzano does not simply accept whatever occurs. He evaluates the results, deciding whether to incorporate them into the current work or pursue them in a later one. This considered engagement with uncertainty is different from treating chance as an artistic virtue in its own right. His practice invites us to understand photography as
a medium whose creative possibilities do not end when the photograph is taken. The negative remains important, but decisions concerning pigment, support, exposure and the treatment of the surface carry artistic weight of their own. The result reflects both the photographer’s skills and the properties of the materials with which he works. Traces of that interaction remain embedded in the finished print, becoming particularly evident when it is examined at close range.
The contemporary use of gum bichromate does not necessarily imply a return to the artistic ambitions of historical Pictorialism, even when the processes are similar. For Alessandro Crapanzano, a nineteenth-century technique becomes part of an artistic practice concerned with questions of materiality, authorship and the boundaries between media. The photographic source remains present, but the final image takes shape through a sequence of decisions that extends well beyond the exposure of the negative. His work demonstrates the considerable creative territory that exists between the photographic record and the finished object. Gum bichromate allows him to explore that territory and, crucially, to make it visible in the material structure of the image.
Notes
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Robert Demachy, Une Balleteuse, 1900, gum bichromate print, accession no. 33.43.58, https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/267855 (accessed 9 October 2026).
Elizabeth Edwards and Janice Hart, eds., Photographs Objects Histories: On the Materiality of Images (London and New York: Routledge, 2004).
Alessandro Crapanzano, “Bio/Contact,” https://alessandrocrapanzano.blogspot.com/p/bio.html; “Alessandro Crapanzano,” Rome Art Week, https://romeartweek.com/it/artisti/?code=LNPAXD (accessed 9 October 2026).
Alessandro Crapanzano, written responses to questions from Grzegorz Gorczyński, October 2026, author’s archive.
Alessandro Crapanzano, “Il mio procedimento per la stampa artigianale alla gomma bicromata,” 16 April 2015, https://alessandrocrapanzano.blogspot.com/2015/04/la-gomma-bicromata-il-mio-procedimento.html (accessed 9 October 2026).
Alessandro Crapanzano, written responses to Grzegorz Gorczyński, October 2026, author’s archive.
Alessandro Crapanzano, supplementary written response concerning the relationship between the negative and the finished print, October 2026, author’s archive.
Tim Ingold, Making: Anthropology, Archaeology, Art and Architecture (London and New York: Routledge, 2013).
Sandra Pinto, ed., Akragas. Luis Serrano, Alessandro Crapanzano (Rome: Arbor Sapientiae Editore, 2016), 48 pp., ISBN 978-88-97805-81-6.
Sandra Pinto, “Open air,” in Akragas. Luis Serrano, Alessandro Crapanzano, ed. Sandra Pinto (Rome: Arbor Sapientiae Editore, 2016), 7–9, https://luisserranopainter.wixsite.com/luis-serrano/sandra-pinto2 (accessed 9 October 2026).
Beatrice Mastrorilli, “Contemplare il silenzio, cercare l’infinito. Nel giardino perduto di Alessandro Crapanzano,” exhibition text accompanying Nel giardino perduto, Biblioteca Guglielmo Marconi, Rome, 2019, https://romeartweek.com/it/eventi/?code=AABEMF (accessed 9 October 2026).
Ibid.
Alessandro Crapanzano, “Bio/Contact,” cited above; “Luce oscura,” Exibart, 18 December 2014, https://www.exibart.com/evento-arte/luce-oscura/ (accessed 9 October 2026).
Alessandro Crapanzano, written responses to Grzegorz Gorczyński, October 2026, author’s archive.
