“Spada’s images of young women are highly charged; there is a tension at play, a sense that something is amiss.”
Allie Haeusslein, Director Pier 24, San Francisco, USA

‘Spada’s book – self-published, stapled together, a brilliant combination of the roughhewn with the exquisite – is a memorial for a dead girl, a cri de coeur for vulnerable young women and a penetrating examination of the social ills resulting from a corrupt and rotten political system.’
Martin Parr / Gerry Badger, The Photobook: A History, Vol.III – Phaidon

"It's exciting to name a hundred and seventy-three new Guggenheim Fellows," said Guggenheim Foundation president Edward Hirsch. These artists and writers, scholars and scientists, represent the best of the best. Each year since 1925, the Guggenheim Foundation has bet everything on the individual, and we're thrilled to continue to do so with this wonderfully talented and diverse group. It's an honor to be able to support these individuals to do the work they were meant to do."


Previous Guggenheim Fellows include Robert Frank, Cindy Sherman, John Gossage, Edward Weston, Diane Arbus amongst others.

Hobo Magazine Issue n.20 (2018) launch at Gallery Yvon Lambert 

You have to start somewhere to tell a story. And this story and our trip started in Ajo, Arizona. Not even sure what we were looking for, and is always another great start, because best things in life looks out for you. I know we wanted to start from the south. Ajo is a small village, population 3,310. Apparently no one in the streets while we were passing by car to reach Mexico border. Then I saw a rockabilly looking guy walking in this desert desert town. Where the first desert stays for the surrounding Arizona desert, and the second word desert stays for nobody’s around. Except him. So I stopped my car. Took some pictures from far away. Then talked to him. Open heart guy, he want me to introduce me to his girlfriend, she’s home, if you can give me a ride there. We go. Meet Kimberly. Kimberly apparently hates him. She always pushes him, mockes him, brings him down. But then all of a sudden she puts her nose and face on his arm. And pushes with her face on his biceps. And I take a picture. So this story starts from them. Coming from New York I make the dumbest question ever, what you guys do here all day? Seems like there’s nothing round here. He replies surprised, oh man, I have a lot of stuff here, then I got my friends I meet them every Saturday night at the park. Well, I’ve punched one of them in the face cause they were calling Kimberly bad names, there’s a lot down here man. After we were done with the pictures he asked me, hey man, do you have a minute, please come back in my house, I want to show you something. We went back in. His grandma was there, Kimberly sat in the sofa, like she knows what was coming. His mom next behind her. He turned on an old tv set, put a dvd into his player, puts his leather jacket on, and a song from Grease started to play on a karaoke base. He started a whole show for the three of us. As we were a thousand. In this tiny house 10 miles from Mexico border we remained astonished, fascinated, carried away. Her grandma was looking at him like a coach looks to her pupil. Kimberly was giving him the middle finger.

Featured in Hobo Magazine n.20 I/2018 Issue