Gabriele De Santis Selected work / Patagonia
A mountain road between wooden houses and snow-capped peaks
Artbook / Film conceptMemory, nature, time.

Patagonia.

An archive you wear.

Embroidered patch with the Italian claim “Un capo non si indossa, si vive” — “You don’t wear it, you live in it”
Step into the story

One jacket.
More than one lifetime.

Patches
don’t cover up.
They tell stories.

First, a father: his love of nature, the parks on his patches, his daughter’s drawings turned into embroidery. Then the daughter, now grown up: the same jacket, her favorite bands stitched beside the family memories.

The patches change with whoever wears it. The jacket keeps traces of both: an archive that keeps growing, a story that changes hands.

Manifesto film / approx. 60″Art direction · Photography · Storytelling

02 / Photographic direction

Life, before
the adventure.

A lived-in home. Everyday gestures. Natural light fills the rooms and lets the details tell you who lives there.

Cold dawn light comes into the bedroom, across blankets and photographs
Zion National Park patch
01 / Interior. Dawn.The silence of a lived-in home.
A blade of light cuts across the kitchen and stretches over the floor
White Pines patch
02 / A familiar gesture.Deep shadows, natural light.

Photography notes / Color palette

The colors
of the stories.

Earth, bark, washed fabrics. Five shades from the original palette, from the green of the landscapes to the warmth of the interiors.

  • Forest green

    #1F311F

    Conifers, lichen, trails.

  • Burnt earth

    #522511

    Rock, soil, roots.

  • Bark

    #492C1C

    Wood and well-worn fabrics.

  • Rust

    #B5441B

    Warm light, embroidery, memory.

  • Charcoal

    #201A16

    Deep shadows, interiors.

Mugs, curtains and a plant on a sunlit windowsill
Everyday life.
A notebook, a camera and hiking gear
The things that remain.
A shaft of warm light across shadowy kitchen cabinets
Time, in the light.

The protagonist

An archive
you wear.

The grain of the fabric, the seams, a worn zipper. The marks of use take center stage in the frame.

The green jacket hanging up, covered in patches and the marks of time
Rocky Mountain National Park patch
03 / The jacket.An object that tells a story.
Close-up of the fabric and the embroidered patches on the jacket
The father’s portrait, drawn by his daughter as a child and embroidered onto a patch
04 / Traces.Patches don’t decorate. They matter.

The story / approx. 60″

First, a father.
Then, a daughter.

The change of hands is written in the fabric. The mountains and the embroidered drawings tell the father’s story; the band patches tell the daughter’s. Different years, different passions, stitched onto the same jacket.

Read the script
01

Interior. Bedroom. Dawn.

A square of light creeps up the wall. The alarm clock buzzes softly. Silence. A slow gesture folds back the blanket. A worn headlamp, an engraved lighter: “Selway-Bitterroot '88.” We never see his face, only the motions of habit.

02

Interior. Kitchen. Moments later.

The linoleum creaks. Things scattered around: a field radio, a blackened kettle, a plant in a light-blue pot with a Montana Wilderness Society sticker. Two photos: a man with a mule, kids planting trees. A wall phone; the TV, switched off, reflects the daylight. The tea burbles. Steam. An enamel mug fills halfway.

03

Transition. The jacket.

The camera pulls back. Sounds grow muffled. In the background, a jacket. Hand-sewn patches: Bob Marshall, Sawtooth, Leave No Trace. One is scorched at the edges. A sure hand takes it down and puts it on.

04

Close-up. Sleeve. Hands.

The zipper glides up. The sleeve falls to the wrist. Weathered hands, a leather bracelet.

05

Exterior. Small town. Dawn.

The door opens. Fog among the tree trunks, wooden houses, a frosted pickup truck. The man rides off on a bike, a covered sack on the rear rack. He disappears down the road.

06

Interior. Back home. Evening.

He comes back in. Muddy footprints. The jacket is scuffed, a patch hanging loose. A little girl throws her arms around him, without waiting.

07

Interior. Stitching.

The jacket on the table. Big hands and small hands mend it together. One of the girl’s drawings becomes an embroidered patch: a portrait of her father. The Singer sewing machine stitches it on beside the mountains and parks he loves.

08

Interior. Years later.

The plant has grown and almost reaches the wall cabinets. There’s a new TV. The phone is gone; stickers and photos cover the wall. The jacket is the same, but new patches tell of another passion: the daughter’s favorite bands. The old ones are still there. So is her drawing, embroidered when she was little. A woman’s hand takes the jacket. She puts it on.

09

Close-up. Sleeve. Hands.

The sleeve is long. Only her fingers peek out. The jacket holds her, but doesn’t hide her.

10

Exterior. Heading out.

The door closes again. The young woman walks. Same road. Dawn returns.

11

Ending


Close-up on the shoulder of the jacket. The patch with the father’s portrait, drawn by his daughter when she was a child, is still there. Faded, flattened by years of washing, it holds on next to the new music patches. The claim keeps pace with her steps: You don’t wear it, you live in it. Patagonia logo.

From father to daughter / The heart of the story

The patches change.
The bond remains.

The hands of the father and his little girl sewing a patch onto the green jacket, with the portrait she drew of him
05 / A drawing becomes a memory.They sew it on together. It will stay with her.

01 / The father

Nature,
on his sleeve.

The father’s love of national parks: a Zion National Park patch The father’s love of the woods: a White Pines patch

Parks, trails, mountains. Alongside the places he loves, the father wears his little girl’s drawings, turned into embroidered patches.

02 / The daughter

Music,
on her sleeve.

The daughter’s love of music: a patch for The Clash The daughter’s favorite bands: a Megadeth patch

Years later, the jacket passes to her. The Clash, Megadeth, her favorite bands: new patches give a voice to who she is, next to her father’s.

The father’s portrait, drawn by his daughter as a child: the patch that connects the two generations

The thread that binds them

The drawing stays.

The little girl who drew it now wears the jacket. The embroidery stays where it always was: the memory of her father, inside a story that goes on with her.

The landscape at sunset through the window, among objects and keepsakes
06 / The landscape comes inside.
A red wooden house in the warm evening light
The Clash patch
07 / Back home. Evening.
The thread that remains.

It holds up.
It stays close.
It remembers.

The sleeve is still too long. Her fingers barely peek out. Her father’s jacket has become hers.

The bands say who she is today. The embroidery born from her childhood drawing holds on to where she comes from. The jacket lasts; the story changes with her.

03 / Inside the artbook

The world
behind the images.

Palette, references, settings and objects. Flip through the sixteen original boards: every page, a piece of the story.

Patagonia / Notes for a film

Go to the index
The artbook’s first spread: aesthetics and palette
All the boards are in the index below.
01 / 16

Aesthetics and palette

Scroll to flip through

The index / All the boards

01Visual identityPalette, typography and references4 boards
02Places and settingsThe house, the road, the landscape5 boards
03Photography and lightFrom dawn to coming home4 boards
04Objects and charactersTraces, symbols, memory3 boards
The road opens up again toward the mountains

The story goes on.

You don’t wear it, you live in it

It doesn’t follow trends.
It follows life.