The Vagabond: A story about photographer Nick Martinelli
June 2018
‘I needed this. I haven’t had a day off since I got back to Sydney,’ says Nick.
It’s Sunday when I take photographer Nick Martinelli for a drive to Sydney’s coastal suburb of Little Bay. The hope of taking some photos wanes against the grey skies above.
Nick’s hand cradles a Pentax MX camera, but his intention of using it is lost between our conversation. We share a laugh about how there’s never enough time in a day to finish what we want.
As the trip continues, Nick discards his camera to the side and opens the window, and then sticks his head out letting the wind blow at his face. Curly brown hair streams behind him, his eyes closed. If you could sum-up Nick in one photo, this was it. I wanted to take the photo but the moment was too precious to be preserved.
Our fascination with images stem as early as our childhood. Not just because our society is immersed in a visual medium, but most importantly because there is a deep desire within us to capture moments in our lives: a reference, a reminder, or simply a souvenir. Tangible memories are as close as we get to immortality. Whether we use cave paintings, meticulously drawn self-portraits, or Instagram, there is no shortage in the ways we collect and share our moments. It’s a futile endeavour, especially for finite creatures.
We park the car, then make our way towards a limestone cliff overlooking the Tasman Sea, and the Pacific Ocean beyond. Fortune favours our trip’s intent: the sun bursts through the grey skies with just enough soft light, and the cool air warms.
Nick takes the camera we brought and adjusts the settings to take his first photo.
‘There’s no SD card,’ he says.
‘No.’ My reply is full of panic.
He wasn’t lying.
‘I don’t think the Pentax has any film either.’
The absurdity of the moment sends us in a fit of laughter.
‘Are you disappointed?’ he asks.
‘Somewhat. But more so, because we can’t take photos.’
A grin cuts through his lips. ‘You just have to appreciate the moment I guess.’
We sit around talking about our respective crafts, which brings up the question of how it all began.
‘I was immersed in photography when I was young. My dad was a photographer, and I’d see his work all the time. I remember the very first photo I took was of a toy car flying off a loop the loop. Remember those?’
‘Matchbox?’
‘Yeah, but after I got the film developed, it came out blurry. I asked my Dad why I couldn’t get the photo, and then he walked me through what I needed to do. Then from there...I just kept taking more photos.’
It was only a matter of time before Nick moved from taking still images to film. By 2015, he finished studying at the Sydney Film School in Waterloo, Sydney with a Bachelor in Film, and has worked in multiple productions filmed in Australia.
‘Doing film production came as a recommendation from a friend actually. It’s definitely different and I consider it separate from my photography. When I got a taste of doing film, I wanted to do it for the rest of my life; purely for the lifestyle of travelling and meeting a multitude of people.’
Nick embraces the nomad lifestyle, travelling around Australia, working on the sets of film and television.
‘What’s the most challenging thing about doing the back and forth between cities?’ I ask.
He ponders at his replies.
‘There’s not a lot, but the only thing that does prove to be challenging is the toll it takes on some of my relationships. It can be difficult to sustain them, and have that consistency. There have been moments where I lost friendships because I’m pursuing the thing I love. They never ended on bad terms, but simply because they were in a different time in life compared to me.’
Even against this challenge, Nick makes the best of the to-and-fro, taking on as much work with a multitude of artists and production companies. A vagabond may not have a home, but they find solace in every moment. Nick personifies this appreciation of the present: his pauses during mid-conversation, the pensive queries that he brings up about life, and his ability to meditate at an instant.
Practicing mindfulness can be defined as actively paying attention, or directing all of a person’s focus on the present moment, allowing a greater appreciation for life’s fragile existence.
The tension between capturing a moment and appreciating a moment is the elusive paradox for Nick. Maybe this fine balance is what makes him a unique photographer: knowing when to take the shot, but also when to bask in the beauty of the moment.
He speaks about his previous exhibition that highlights this point.
‘Everyone will always interpret your work differently, but my last exhibition called Presence was a collection of photos of people in their normal, day-to-day moments. I was trying to get the viewer to be reminded to be mindful of their own day-to-day when they take the photo all in.’
We switch to our phones to take photos. Not ideal, but we make due.
‘If you get it from this angle, you’ll get a better shot,’ Nick says, pointing at a small rocky hill.
Of course he was right.
‘What’s next for you in photography?’ I ask.
‘Prints. But I want to do it, not to make money, but just because I want to share what I love doing. But I also want to do it at my own pace. I don’t let the things I love stress me out.’
To get in contact, and see more of Nick's work = @nickmartinelli.diary
Written and Photographs by: S.I. Finlayson
Editor: Tim Hamer
Model & Subject : Nick Martinelli
Gallery Photos provided by : Nick Martinelli