Some may be surprised to learn that where the Melbourne Polytechnic campus now stands, on High Street in Prahran (my own neighbourhood since 2011), there once stood the prestigious Prahran College of Technology.
From 1968 to 1991, the college was a creative hub where many of Australia’s most respected artists learnt their trade. Recently, a selection of works by alumni from its photography program was featured in the exhibition The Prahran Legacy: Beyond the Basement. Among the contributors was Italian-Australian photographer Luzio Grossi.
Born in Lazio, but now with a strong Australian accent, Grossi is a well-established name in the Australian photography scene. He has collaborated with major publications including The Age, The Australian and The Australian Financial Review.
“I migrated here with my family in 1974. I’m from a beautiful little village in the province of Latina,” Grossi, who became an Australia citizen in 2001, shared.
“Arriving in Clayton, right in the middle of winter, was a shock. I’d never seen so much concrete in my life.”
The cultural shock he experienced was significant. Grossi, who had expected the warm, welcoming atmosphere of Italy, instead found himself in a more reserved, individualistic society.
Reuniting with relatives in Melbourne, where his uncles and cousins were already settled, wasn’t immediately easy. “At first, I could only speak with my uncles, since my cousins didn’t speak Italian,” he recalled. “One night, my uncle Tito told me I’d be starting school the next day, and I thought, ‘Tomorrow’s going to be a tough day.’
“But within three weeks, I couldn’t believe it; I was doing pretty well with English!”
Driven by curiosity, open-mindedness and a sharp visual sensibility, Grossi soon gravitated toward photography. “Back then, you could study photography at RMIT, but there was also Prahran College. It was known as the school for bohemian artists. I liked [the idea of] it, but it was invitation-only, and the classes were really small.”
Undeterred, the determined 17-year-old Grossi began lingering near the classroom of famed photographer John Cato. Though technically too young to enrol, Grossi’s passion caught Cato’s eye, and he was eventually accepted into the program.
It didn’t take long for the charismatic Grossi to realise that his creative vision didn’t quite align with the prevailing norms of the time. “For my first shoot, I asked a student from the upstairs ceramics class to pose for me. I built a crucifix and photographed her nude, incorporating the themes Cato often spoke about when describing the ideal image: religion, sex and nostalgia.” But the bold concept didn’t sit well with Cato, who wanted Grossi out of the course.
“In the end, I realised the way people were being photographed back then was kind of boring,” he explained, “I wanted interesting subjects, so I started seeking out comedians.” Grossi began working with Melbourne’s emerging comedy scene, leading to his first solo exhibition in 1987.
To promote it, he drew on a childhood memory of his mother scolding him with a peculiar phrase: Parla soltanto quando piscia la gallina.
He translated it literally and used it as the irreverent slogan for his show: Speak Only When the Chicken Pisses. The title drew criticism from the press and even a radio station, but the show was a sell-out success, earning him a grant and leading to a prestigious gig as the official photographer of the Edinburgh Festival the following year.
From there, Grossi’s career took off. His work has appeared in local and international publications including Vogue, Rolling Stone and Harper’s Bazaar. He’s travelled extensively, from France to Italy and all the way to India, where he helped oversee the opening of a photography school in New Delhi.
“I stayed for six months and fell in love with the culture,” he said, “It reminds me a lot of Italy - big, close-knit families all living together and welcoming everyone with open arms.”
Grossi also spent time in the United States, where he photographed the likes of James Brown, LaToya Jackson and even Donald Trump. “I was with the crew in his office at Trump Tower. The moment he walked in, you could feel the tension shift,” he recalled.
“In Australia, people usually butcher my name, but somehow the New Yorkers got it right. Even Trump himself pronounced it perfectly.”
When asked whether his Italian roots have influenced his career, Grossi reflects that he might have had more work if he’d changed his name like some other Italian photographers in Australia. “My name’s unusual, even for Italians.”
Still, his connection to Italy remains strong. He fondly recalls working with La Repubblica and Corriere della Sera, and the year he spent back in the homeland. In his early days, he looked to Italian magazines like Vogue Italia as creative bibles.
“It was the holy grail for a lot of photographers, especially fashion photographers. Italian photography was at least six months ahead of us here in Australia,” he explained.
You can see Luzio Grossi’s powerful and evocative photographic works on display at the Museum of Australian Photography and at the upcoming Ballarat International Foto Biennale.
