IN STUDIO WITH MINA
The making of a virtual tour
by Christine K. Zarb
leggi in italiano
 I arrive at the GSU recording studios early, so i wait outside for Massimiliano Pani whom i’m supposed to interview. As I look at the anonymous glass doors, i realize i’m excited to be at the diva’s recording studio — the great singer, who’s powerful performances are treasured by our collective memory. We know her songs, having hummed the famous tunes over four decades. The media icon who in the 60s and 70s graced Italian television with her presence and whose name was on everyone’s lips, whose name was one of my baby brother’s first spoken words: M-i-n-a.
Massimiliano Pani, the artist’s son and project manager, is three minutes late when he drives his black Smart into the parking lot. He apologizes for keeping me waiting and guides me thought the studio, which is divided into three main sections: a sound proof room and two recording studios with enormous mixing desks. The array of equipment is impressive. If you’ve ever been in a recording studio, you’ll know this one’s the real thing. I’m not talking about the state of the art equipment, I mean that it’s a working space, not a display. There is no fashionable furniture, and with exception of the gold and platinum albums on the wall and a multitude of framed Polaroid’s of smiling musicians and industry people, everything else is functional.
We begin the interview and in the meantime, the studio fills up with people. The photographer has arrived. He’s going to record a series of panoramic shots to create a virtual tour of Mina’s recording studio, which will be online at the Mina Mazzini website. Mina’s Web team is here too. They’ve come from different cities around Italy to be part of the shoot. All up, there’s a dozen people, squeezed around the conference table, sitting in the rest area or walking in and out of the studios, snaking past the grand piano and the drum kit. Moose, Massimiliano’s pit bull is excited. He keeps running out on the terrace hoping someone will play with him.
Mina is here, talking to her illustrator. I almost don’t dare enter the room, as if i were unworthy to share the same space with her. The celebrated star, the icon, the woman all dressed in black and sheathed in a black poncho, who keeps her blond hair knotted into a long braid. She sits quietly, encircled by her employees. She appears elusive; the lovely face shielded by amber teardrop lenses. She smiles and greets me politely. Her voice is soft.
In the kitchen, as i wait for the coffee to trickle through the machine, I look at the bottles of white wine, French Champagne, and several bottles of home-made olive oil on top of the fridge. Someone once told me she’s a great cook. The fridge itself is empty and i am intrigued by the collection of life-size fridge magnets in the shape of tropical fruit and garden vegetables, stuck to the open door.
In the lounge area, the illustrator shows a series of illustrations, approved by her, to the Web guy. They’re going to turn them into animations for the website.
It takes between 18 to 24 takes to do a full 360° turn. As the photographer shuffles about, moving his tripod and setting up each shot, i stand aside taking notes. The interview is finished and Massimiliano is sitting at the grand piano gently stroking the keys. At the other end of the piano, an open Powerbook makes a bizarre contrast to the melodious Steinway. While we work, the stream of music reverberates through the studio — stirring things. In the corner of the sound proof room there’s a 70s Wurlitzer electric piano next to which three Gibson guitars and a Fender have been arranged.
The creative process is akin to an alchemical practice. Today Mina has opened her recording studio, just a fraction, to allow her fans to come inside and take a look at the space in which she works and creates all the great music they love.
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