The island has long been a powerful symbol in literature, art, and philosophy, often as a representation of isolation, introspection, and self-exploration. From Robinson Crusoe’s solitary survival to philosophical reflections on exile and self-sufficiency, islands have been depicted as spaces where individuals confront the complexities of identity and society.
Thinking Like an Island, the new photobook by Italian artists Camilla Marrese and Gabriele Chiapparini (published by Overlapse) taps into this tradition but deliberately avoids the conventional representations of islands as either idyllic havens or bleak wastelands. Instead, it presents a complex, layered portrait of a small Mediterranean outcrop (though its name is never revealed), where isolation, community, and identity continually intersect.
The island in question is home to a remote community of between 30 to 60 residents (including just three students who attend the tiny local school) living without cars or other conveniences of modern life. Yet, rather than focusing on the everyday lives of the residents, Chiapparini and Marrese use the island as a metaphorical space for deeper, existential reflection.
The book’s unique design—divided into four small booklets—echoes the disorienting experience of being on the island itself. As the viewer engages with the images, they are prompted to navigate through a fragmented, non-linear sequence, mirroring the challenge of understanding and connecting with a place where time and identity are fluid and elusive. The result is an immersive experience, encouraging the viewer to get lost in the island's mystery, with each image offering a new layer of meaning and intrigue.
The images in Thinking Like an Island accentuate mystery, isolation, and solitude. People are often photographed alone, sometimes obscured or viewed from a distance, emphasizing introspection and emotional distance. Rugged landscapes, along with symbolic objects like ladders and old tools highlight the delicate balance between human presence and the untamed natural world.
Fragments of the landscape take on a portrait-like quality, as if they too are sentient—alive and deeply intertwined with the residents. They are not separate, but exist as one, a living, thinking entity, just as the title suggests. There is a slowness, a calmness to the images that at times feels almost eerie, creating the sense of being in a different reality, a place where time itself seems still.
Rather than presenting the island as a simple utopia or dystopia, Chiapparini and Marrese take a philosophical approach, accentuated by diary excerpts and quotes from the island’s residents, which deepen the resonance of the photographs.
This invites viewers to consider how a solitary microcosm might serve as a potential model for surviving the social and economic crises increasingly threatening our world. Yet, as with much great visual storytelling, there is no definitive conclusion. The viewer is left with more questions than answers—questions about our relationship with identity, community, and place in an increasingly fragmented and tumultuous world—questions that we must answer for ourselves.
