Michael Lanzano
Photographer and Software Programmer
New York City

Michael Lanzano hasn’t always labeled himself an “artist.” Facile with math and computers, he gravitated toward economics in college. Shortly after graduating, Michael was hired by an investment bank, where he develops the company’s trading software and automated reporting systems. “I actually spent most of my time at Yale in the metal shop,” he admits. “I always wanted to do something more physically creative.”

In order to pursue the artistic, Michael maintains flexible hours that allow him to schedule photo shoots. These days, that means two days a week spent “at the desk” maintaining the trading software. “The programs have a high degree of connectivity,” he explains, “so we’re always having to adapt to new protocols set by data vendors and trading partners. It’s important [for the company] to have someone on staff who is familiar with the systems so we can respond quickly… Sometimes my job requires me to redesign an entire system; often it’s a matter of putting a comma somewhere. My working part time gives the bank a great value and it gives me the hours I need. It’s very win-win.”

Michael saw the potential of his being a photographer while spending a semester of his junior year in Paris. There he began his formal training in photography and found the anonymity necessary to delve into this passion. “I think I’ve always had the personality of a photographer: somewhat social, a bit provocative, but in the end detached—an observer,” Michael says. “Growing up, I [considered] a profession in photography… too risky, a recipe for bohemian striving. Paris changed this. When you’re thousands of miles from home, drunk on unpasteurized cheese, it’s a perfect time to step outside yourself and question whether the person you’ve been cast as is who you really are, and who you want to be.”

After graduating from Yale, Michael found artistic inspiration in a friend and fashion photographer whose studio he joined. While he enjoyed collaborating on editorial and advertising jobs, Michael found himself drawn to travel photography; he has photographed the lives and landscapes of distant locations such as Armenia, Cambodia and Vietnam. “There’s an interesting contradiction between the surface of and the substance inside a photograph,” Michael explains. “A picture has to have certain formal elements for people to acknowledge it, but your subject has to feel comfortable with you before he will let you capture him on many levels. The most important job is to establish trust, but you also need to focus the camera. Working in Armenia was difficult: I didn’t speak the language, and I somehow had to assure the subjects that their hair was fine and that the decaying industrial site in the background was beautiful, all while setting up my tripod. Because there was no [shared] language, I just had to smile a lot and move slowly.”

Michael’s most recent travel project only required his crossing the East River, but the same principle of gaining trust applies. Driving through Brooklyn one day, Michael noticed a plethora of storefront churches along Fulton Street, as many as five in a row on one block; he was fascinated and intrigued by these clusters. He returned the following Sunday with another photographer, not to take a lot of pictures, he explains, but to make a connection with the community on which to build a project.

“We brought a big camera with us, so that no one suspected any sleight of hand,” Michael says. “We shot Polaroids and gave the photos away so people would know exactly what we were doing. The churchgoers invited us in, and though I wasn’t there to find emotion, it was an overwhelming experience. I’m not saying I cried, but I’m not saying I didn’t. The pilgrimage is an extremely important aspect of taking photos for me. No matter how close to or far from home, my work always requires that I… put myself where the subject is. Otherwise I’m an outsider.

“The night before a trip I’m always nervous. Did I remember to pack the lens cleaner? Will I be killed? And while I do usually forget some items from my kit, I am still alive and have been fed, offered drink (all kinds), sung to, hugged and helped by a lot of people. The only explanation is that individuals are basically kind. Even more amazing is that often the people most different from you can be the most accepting of you, and people who have the least can be the most generous. Next to this, the images are almost, almost secondary. The connection is what keeps me traveling.”

EEH

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