Spectrum is a journey of rediscovery of Milan's outskirts, made up of sounds and images. It is an immersive video that rekindles an appreciation of the vitality and integration found in the city's most marginal areas, through the stories of its places and its faces.
The suburb is that outer, marginal place that stands in opposition to the city centre. It is often a stigmatised, overlooked part of the city, yet it is in reality home to dimensions that the city has lost over time: inclusion, integration, community. With the aim of offering a fresh perspective on these themes and addressing those that become ideologically charged, the suburbs of the city of Milan (Giambellino-Lorenteggio, Adriano-Padova-Rizzoli, Corvetto-Chiaravalle-Porto di Mare, QT8-Gallaratese) took centre stage thanks to the UP – Urban people residency, which invited photographers and filmmakers to tell their stories.
It was in this context that the short film Spectrum APR was born, made by sociology-specialised filmmaker Beatrice Surano who, by choosing the Adriano-Padova-Rizzoli area, portrayed a glimpse of Milan's outskirts through its sounds. The video is a journey — circular, designed to be watched on a loop — that makes you forget the area's status as a suburb, turning it into a centre and bringing it to life with its frenetic, energetic, surreal noises. The soundtrack is thus the life of the neighbourhoods and their inhabitants themselves: an immersion in a new dimension to be discovered and experienced, free of geographical and social labels. We met Beatrice Surano, who told us about her work.
How did you choose the Adriano-Padova-Rizzoli neighbourhoods in particular?
I fell in love with the Adriano-Padova-Rizzoli area because I was struck by its multiethnic dimension. It's the first thing that hits you when you enter Via Padova, along with the warmth of the people and their desire to talk about the neighbourhood. This pushed me to deepen my connections with the people and the associations, both on a human level and in terms of the territory.
I breathed in the desire to free Via Padova from the stigma of a dangerous area associated with drug dealing, prostitution and urban decay, and there was an incredible level of collaboration from the associations and local realities — which, honestly, I hadn't expected.Beatrice Surano, videomaker
Why did you decide to convey the story not only through images but above all through sounds?
At heart I am very attached to the sonic dimension of video and to music in general, so the idea was to try to work with the sounds I found incredibly powerful within the area, and especially with the variations along the axis of Via Padova: extraordinary chaos and vitality before the overpass, and then a very strong contrast with Adriano and Rizzoli, which are instead far more residential neighbourhoods, much quieter, almost lunar.
The sounds were recorded sometimes live on location, sometimes through sound design actions, thanks to the contribution of sound designer Francesco Ameglio. And by exploring the neighbourhood in different ways — on foot, by bike, by bus — I realised I could actually create a loop, a circular narrative that took into account both the visual impact — the meaningful images from this exploration — and the sonic universe, which is predominant. Via Padova, for example, inspired jazz in me, the chaos, blending the sound of the drum kit with what was actually happening inside the neighbourhood.
Where does this journey through Milan's peripheral neighbourhoods take us?
In my route, I decided to start with a "moon landing" in Adriano, where the sounds are truly rarefied. When I arrived, several days of rain had just ended and one of the electricity pylons was emitting a continuous hum. And so in this place where there was no one around, with that hum, I really felt as though I was in another universe.
Then, gradually, I simply followed the suggestions I encountered during the exploration. So I made my way down along the Naviglio della Martesana, where life begins to flow again, the city comes alive — both in terms of traffic and in terms of nature, of people who start to animate the neighbourhood with their walks, on their bikes. You get a completely different feeling.
What differences did you find between the areas?
The Adriano, Padova and Rizzoli areas are very different; I divided them somewhat bluntly. The Via Padova area begins at Piazzale Loreto with this enormous frenzy of colours, smells, people and activity. Then there is the powerful impression made by the road's division at the overpass. After the overpass, everything changes — it's almost a barrier. It has a striking effect. There is the constant presence of passing trains, and the underpass truly represents a dividing line between what comes before and after it, something I wanted to emphasise.
Adriano in December felt like a lunar neighbourhood. There were craters — the foundations of buildings rising out of nowhere. It was quite striking, in a positive sense too. I was also taken by the contrast with the people: there is practically nobody there, it is very residential, almost a dormitory neighbourhood. Line 56 thus becomes the focal point: the whole world is on the 56, it's a wonderful experience, you hear every language in the world being spoken, it's packed — it's the only bus that runs there.
On the other side, in the area around Via Rizzoli, there is this old factory — the Rizzoli, as the name suggests — which stands abandoned. That is perhaps one of the most problematic areas. Via Padova seems to be the part that receives the most attention, but in that zone the residents pointed out to me situations of hardship linked to drug dealing and urban planning issues — situations that are talked about less than those on nearby Via Padova, perhaps because Via Rizzoli is located in a far more peripheral area.
In terms of people, what kind of cross-section did you observe? Migration, second generations, integration?
Along this axis the population has changed greatly: Via Padova, for example, has a very long history and tradition of immigration, which began with migration from the south and from Veneto. And now there are very many second generations.
There is a girl in the video, Yara, who fully embodies the second generation: a girl of Egyptian origin who grew up in Italy, who listens to the music she likes, sings in both languages — a mix. There is a growing inclusion and integration of different cultures within the same territory.
The dimension of the commercial activity along Via Padova is also wonderful, because historic businesses sit side by side with newer ones — a shop selling cups and trophies that has been there for many years, or a hat shop, with an ethnic grocery that has been there just as long right across the way. So there are these interactions between shopkeepers, between people, bound together also by food.
Once you cross the overpass, a completely different reality opens up. There too there is a great deal of migration, but I noticed the presence of an older demographic around the Bocciofila Caccialanza and the allotments on Via Padova: essentially the neighbourhood's elderly residents who gather to take part in activities. The allotments are an interesting case. They collaborate extensively with schools, letting children in to see and explore them. So there is connection and a desire for integration that is not only cultural but also generational.
Do you think these areas will be subject to gentrification?
It's already beginning. Just look at the concept of Nolo, North of Loreto, which is essentially the start of via Padova. Some people hate this concept, some people want to claim it for themselves. Because on one hand it qualifies the neighbourhood even just at a conceptual level — in the sense that it turns it into something else. And then it's a symptom of the fact that it's becoming a slightly radical chic area. So in my opinion via Padova is next in line for gentrification, but I just hope it doesn't bring all the problems that come with it — rising rents and so on. It's wonderful that there's this kind of mixing, it's wonderful that the city and the stigmatised neighbourhood can blend together, that you can walk through them calmly and forget that aura of fear. But at the same time I hope the changes won't be too radical, because they would somewhat strip away the realities that exist there.
Why the name spectrum?
Spectrum is the audio spectrum — a visual and sonic representation of a neighbourhood. Spectrum as a graphical representation of audio, but also as the spectrum of possibilities, for the suburbs.