In March, as a coronavirus continued to widespread opposite Italy, authorities announced they would place a whole nation in lockdown. At a time, Italian-born photographer Alex Majoli was doing an artist residency nearby Codogno, one of a epicenters of a pandemic. He motionless to conduct south, where he has a home, intending to account a impact of a pathogen on a people of Sicily. “I was innate in a north, Ravenna,” says Majoli, who also maintains an unit in Brooklyn. “Up north, people are good during masking their anguish. But in Sicily, all is always some-more theatrical, some-more epic. They feel grief some-more deeply, some-more philosophically, since their worldview is a integrate of centuries behind. In Sicily, we realized, I’d see some-more of a visible clarity of this tragedy.”
Back north, morgues were overflowing. Hospitals, records Majoli, “stopped holding any non-emergency patients. It was all coronavirus.” Soon a south engrossed an estimated 30,000 Italians who had fled a stricken north, some of whom had brought a contamination with them. As a nation’s fatalities climbed into a thousands, eclipsing China’s genocide toll, Majoli saw a Sicily rocked by a same tremors he’d witnessed nearby Codogno. People were forced to sojourn indoors. Cemeteries were close to keep people from congregating there. Funerals were criminialized lest mourners come in hit with a families of a deceased—or with one another.