In September 2022, Rizzoli New York published At the Table of La Fortezza, a photography book of regional Lunigiana recipes adapted for an American audience, born from Annette Joseph’s vision. I worked as the Italian co-producer on the project starting in the summer of 2019, and the experience proved exhilarating and incredibly instructive for several reasons.
The beginning of a slightly unhinged adventure
When Annette asked me to join the project, I knew this experience would enrich my vision of creative production, but I wasn’t entirely aware I would face a whole new game.
My career has continuously developed along two seemingly distant but, for me, closely related tracks: producing marketing and communication strategies and producing installations and events. Producing a photography book centered around a place is the ideal synthesis of both because it requires a profoud understanding of the location, turning it into a brand, and then finding the right way and voice to communicate it effectively while coordinating creative and logistical teams.
The book’s explicit mission was to share Lunigiana’s regional recipes with an American audience, transforming La Fortezza (Annette’s fabulous estate) into a brand that embodied a distinctive lifestyle.
Photography books are marketing investments
First, producing them costs far more than the editorial return on investment. Money must be advanced to pay for, among others, a photography team that embraces and enhances the creative vision, staff to set up the shots, logistical support staff (to purchase materials, prepare, clean, and organize), raw materials and props (bought or rented, with the associated logistics), and one or more locations.
These books are inherently elitist by nature. Called “coffee table books” in the industry, they’re designed to be design objects displayed and admired, with fine bindings and large, impactful color images. They’re small luxuries people treat themselves to, which will be opened occasionally, not mass-market products.
In the case of a recipe book, the ambition is for aspiration and realism to coexist, representing dishes in an appealing yet authentic way while ensuring that measurements and instructions are easily replicable—a difficult balance but similar to what we often pursue in advertising campaigns.
What it means to collaborate on a photography book
With photography books, three key figures are involved in the production, each with their own circus to manage: project, editorial, and executive producers.
The project producer usually launches the book idea itself, defines the overall investment based on marketing objectives, and then assigns the task of producing it to editorial and executive producers. In this case, Annette Joseph decided to write the book to promote her estate’s brand, La Fortezza, and to create a product that could empower her potential American clients to recreate the lifestyle she leads during the time she spends in Lunigiana.
The editorial producer coordinates aspects related to writing, layout, and publication. This involves choosing the visual style (often assigned to an art director and possibly illustrators), editing (from content selection to text revision), and choosing a cover and title.
In the case of a cookbook, this also includes:
- deciding which recipes are relevant and worthy of being featured in the book and which ones need more images
- reviewing preparation instructions to ensure they’re easy for anyone to follow and that the measurements and quantities indicated are correct
- making sure that ingredients are readily available in the target market for the book and suggesting substitutions
- distributing the recipes to testers who will test their feasibility under different home conditions
And then there’s me, the executive producer of this project, who ensures that the overall machine works in the field, the factotum of chaos. From purchasing and renting props to verifying working conditions comply with pandemic regulations, to finding a turbot needed for a recipe at the last minute, to physically unloading a huge vintage fish counter from Bulgaria from a truck under the scorching noon sun.
Props, materials, and set pieces needed to create a book
Creating a photography book, even within real, lived-in spaces, means gathering a wild, overflowing assortment of details that add character to the story.
To do this, you end up transforming every available space into storage. My shopping list included:
- vintage and new-but-unique tableware
- textiles with interesting but not too dominant patterns (the dish must always be the center of the image in a cookbook)
- objects found in shops, flea markets, and the homes of people I met (relatives, friends, and acquaintances)
- always fresh food, including game (I’ll spare you the gory details)
In some cases, it’s necessary to have custom elements made. For example, I often have hand-painted backgrounds created to simulate surfaces to shoot on or to position in the background.
All while trying to resist the temptation to keep something for myself…
Setting up for the shot is storytelling
Prop and food styling are disciplines aimed at arranging objects and food specifically for the camera. Or better yet, for the visual project the camera will frame. It’s pure storytelling, often serving marketing objectives. In this way, too, producing and setting up a photography book isn’t very different from making an advertising shot.
With all the technical elements it requires, it’s a highly creative job with strategic impact. On the set of At the Table of La Fortezza, for example, we had a food stylist who has also collaborated on TV series and films, in this case making sure every element would convey the essence of Lunigiana.
Creating a photography book, therefore, goes beyond simply documenting recipes. It’s a work of visual storytelling that requires a deep understanding of the target audience and the ability to translate a cultural experience into an accessible and desirable format. For instance, it allows American readers to feel part of an authentic Italian experience. It provides them with tools to recreate not only the dishes but also the entire atmosphere of Lunigiana in their homes.
A book is made by people who need to be cared for
The layering of technical and creative skills in a project like this requires the talents of people with specific idiosyncrasies, styles, and approaches. Each professional brings a unique perspective that must be understood and valued to achieve the highest possible quality in every shot.
Producing in the field also means protecting the talent, ensuring that working conditions are always optimal, that there is room for recovery and rest, offering feedback even when it seems superfluous, and anticipating needs and requests. When you’re lucky, it requires closely collaborating with them on every aspect.
Working with David Loftus and Rosie Scott was an unspeakable privilege and the beginning of a precious friendship. Beyond the incredible stories they have to tell and their talent, observing them at work and collaborating restored my confidence in my vision.
Problem solving and production during a pandemic
In short, behind every beautiful photo you admire in a glossy book, there are usually hours of work and an army of people who have probably lost sleep, patience, and a bit of mental health in the process.
Now, imagine doing it during a pandemic. Not knowing if and when you can work, respecting the look and feel of a season while organizing and booking tests that allow people to travel. Literally worrying about people’s life!
Instead of shooting in March 2020 as planned, our production began in September that year. For me, this meant:
- drafting work paperwork to justify international travel
- organizing PCR tests synchronized with flights, schedules, and local laboratory availability during peak phases
- buying gallons of sanitizing solutions, hundreds of masks, dozens of rapid tests
- taking everyone’s temperature in the morning to complete the set report
- negotiating the problematic compromise between “social distancing” and “food styling”
All under conditions of absolute serenity, considering we had to complete the shots in four weeks of production, distributed across as many seasons.
The pandemic added an extra level of complexity to the project. I had to completely rethink production processes and develop creative solutions, especially making peace with systemic uncertainty. It was very instructive, to say the least.
My take-aways, beyond satisfaction
In hindsight, many of the “lessons” I noted in my notebook seem like colossal duh moments. But the more I work and meet people, the more I become aware of how uncommon the common sense that I consider apparent is. That’s why I’m sharing the most relevant maxims here:
- sometimes, it only takes a phone call. But you have to make it, not overthink it
- what can’t be seen doesn’t exist. For the purposes of the shot, clearly
- something always goes wrong. Always. Without exceptions. You must come to terms with this well in advance, have a clear set of priorities and backup plans B, C, etc.
- smiling warmly is a powerful tool for negotiation, collaboration, and conflict management. Try it next time you need to deal with admin
That said, despite the challenges encountered during the production process and some complications in the printing phase, the experience of producing a book with Rizzoli proved extraordinarily educational.
It confirmed the importance of maintaining a flexible and creative approach in managing complex projects. How the excellence of the final result depends on the ability to harmonize artistic vision, marketing needs, and production constraints. It was a passionate journey of discovery and reaffirmation that I hope to repeat.
Photo by Charlotte Coneybeer from Unsplash.
