2025 is almost over, and in the spirit of entering a new year, I’d like to share some notable entryways (ingressi, in Italian) from my Torino trip in September.
I’ve been visiting Torino my whole life. And while I’ve never officially held an address there, a large part of my family does, and it’s been my Italian base over the last three decades of trips back to the homeland.
Currently, my parents and my sister, along with her family, all live in the neighborhood of Vanchiglia, so it’s usually where I set up camp when visiting.
The photo below, in fact, is the lobby in my parents’ riverside condo building.
Vanchiglia borders the Po river to the south, the longest river in Italy, and since Torino has pre-Roman roots as a trading post between the Ligurians to the south and the Alp-hopping Celts, buildings of varying sturdiness have existed here for well over two-thousand years.
Considering Torino’s long history, the apartment buildings in this series are relatively new—mostly from the post-war, mid-century population boom of the late fifties through the mid-seventies.
During that time, Fiat’s automobile manufacturing expansion brought a lot of people to Torino, and in a short time, professionals could swing buying a condo for their family in buildings like these all over town.
Growing up in the eighties, I wasn’t taken at all with these ingressi. They were just liminal spaces I had to traverse with my parents on our way up to see a relative, friend, doctor, notary, teacher, etc.
There was nothing special about these ornate lobbies because, well, they were the norm. I didn’t know a world without them.
Plus, they didn’t compare to the majesty of grand foyers from Risorgimento-era royal palaces that could be seen all over town, with their dual open staircases, intricate stone work, and gold leaf regalia—Torino had been the capital of unified Italy and the seat of the king and his nobles, after all—the bar for luxury was quite high.
I only started noticing how distinctive these entrances were after I began visiting and living in other places and feeling their absence. Especially after I moved to the States.
This didn’t mean that I suddenly started to admire the aesthetic.
For most of my life, I thought that the juxtaposition of cold marble, rich wood, and wall-to-wall clean lines looked somber, like a mausoleum. And dated to boot. Passé. Pure unearned pretentiousness.
But lately, especially in the last decade of enshittification of everything, I’ve started to appreciate the commitment to using durable, natural materials, and I’m suddenly drawn to these spaces. Even protective of them.
I admire the bold choices made within this stark palette precisely because they are choices I probably wouldn’t make. I love the range of different marbles used. The woodwork. The brass accents. The surprising art. The medley of non-native plants.
This style brings the outdoors in, albeit, severely transformed—applying a rigid order to nature. What they lack in warmth, they make up for in elegance.
Luckily for me, most buildings of this era usually have floor-to-ceiling plate glass doors, so it’s easy as a non-resident admirer to take a peek inside while strolling by on the sidewalk. As a matter of fact, all but one of these photos have been taken from the outside looking in, through glass.
I would jam my lens right against the glass pane to avoid reflections from the street, and tried my best to strike up a composition within these limits.
I did this at night because I find that once the streets fall dark, the ingressi really start to shine. Everything reflects artificial light, from the stainless steel and polished brass, to the glossy marble and laquered wood.
Because they’re lobbies, they’re often overlit, which makes them challenging to photograph—so many reflections, hotspots, and high contrast. But during the day, they don’t have quite the same glow.
On this last trip, I decided to start a project documenting some of my favorites in Vanchiglia. I was going out every night anyway, so it was easy to photograph on my way back from my walks or the bar.
Over the last couple of decades, the neighborhood of Vanchiglia has developed quite a nightlife, to the chagrin of its mostly muted residential population occupying these buildings. Bars overflow into the street, sometime eating up entire squares, late into the night, especially on the weekends.
The narrow streets bounce the noise up into everyone’s windows. Even a whisper at street level is carried upward and amplified, so you can imagine what it’s like to be bombarded by sonorous crowds of young drunk people as you’re trying to sleep. I learned this the hard way a few years back when I rented an Airbnb four floors above a string of bars.
For as many changes as the neighborhood has gone through, these ingressi are virtually untouched by time. There’s a reassuring permanence to them. They’ll outlast me and you, that’s for sure.
I’m glad for that.
On my next trip over to Torino, I’ll probably continue to add to my series. I look forward to sharing them with you in 2026.
Ingressfully yours,
Luca Eandi
Chief Renewal Officer