Opening a Book with Kevin Day
The writer and photographer discusses his new book, Opening a Bottle: Italy
Kevin Day and I first met in 2017 on an ambitious press trip that started in Cognac and traversed Paris, Champagne, Burgundy, Beaujolais, and Gigondas before landing, at last, in Provence. He’d been writing about wines on his blog, openingabottle.com, and was eager to explore European producers in the best way possible: by visiting to see, talk, and taste.
Over time he obtained French Wine Scholar and Italian Wine Scholar certifications, and expanded his publication’s scope to add regional profiles, tasting guides, producer recommendations, educational materials, and online events. Italy and France remain a focus.
Kevin and I have kept in touch, occasionally finding ourselves, once again, on the same press tour in Italy or France, most recently in Sicily and Piedmont. That’s given me a first-hand look at his process; as both reporter and photographer, he must juggle a lot of kit in the field. But the results are worth it: rich visual and textual narratives that share not only the story of a region’s wines—the histories and ambitions, the successes and not-yet successes—but also the visual contours of the territory and its people.
Kevin has now collected 18 of his favorite pieces from the Italian peninsula into a self-published monograph, Opening a Bottle: Italy. Many of these stories first appeared on his site but now have a permanent home in print. I had the pleasure of working with him as editorial adviser as he chose the material and honed it for publication. It’s a handsome, hard-bound book that readers can can dip into casually or read front to back for a full immersion. It also features an annotated section of a hundred wines to admire.
I sat down with Kevin after the book’s release to talk about his approach and process and what he’s learned along the way. The interview has been edited and condensed.
When you’re visiting a producer, you have to report and shoot at the same time. It’s a lot to manage. Say more about your process.
When I’m reporting, I’m paying attention to themes and narratives while also focusing on the visual details that let a reader know what it’s like to be in that musty cellar, to stand on a steep, windy pitch in the Alps, to see the overgrown vineyard on Etna. I don’t use a zoom lens because it makes me a little lazy. Instead of getting closer to the subject I just zoom in and the image ends up looking flatter. Using a prime lens, which has a fixed focal length, I bend my knees more, explore angles, get more involved in the composition. With the reporting, I’m using my cell phone to record and—this is the one area where AI plays a part—a transcription app to let me search hours of conversations. That helps with the conflicted attention where I’m shooting a picture and asking a question at the same time.
You’re having a physical engagement with the material in a way that strict print journalists don’t have. That physical witnessing seems an important part of your process. How do you think about the art and the editorial working together?
I take a photo centric approach. I try for a variety of compositions, landscapes, architectural details, portraits, and close-ups to create a collage of the experience to complement the writing. Sometimes I’ll look at the photos after I return and realize they aren’t up to standard, so I kick myself for not getting that little textural detail in the cellar, or a good composition of the grapes on the vine. In the end, since I have to sequence the photography with the story, some good images get left on the cutting room floor—just like certain sentences get left on the cutting room floor.
How you balance visual beauty and a sense of romanticism with the reality of viticulture and winemaking? Italy has some some hardscrabble wine regions.
My visual esthetic does lean toward the beautiful, so it paints a rosy picture of the wine world. But the words reveal the difficult aspects. For example, the story of Luca Currado Vietti and Elena Penna Currado, who are effectively divorced from their family winery. That was a touchy subject but it was pivotal to their story. I like to focus on the notion of toil, because these people work way harder than I ever have for a product that I enjoy, and I want to convey what goes into it, that hardship, how hard it must be to cultivate, to be sustainable, to uphold a family tradition, when the modern economy and climate change are rewriting the rules daily. That is a theme in my book and most of my writing.
Many of the chapters were published first online. Did you have to think differently about the material when moving to book form?
I was looking for a quick win when I started. I thought I could take maybe ten favorite articles and do a compendium just for my subscribers. But once I started thinking about it being in a book, it was clear they needed to be remixed, like when a musician releases an anniversary edition and remasters it.
So, thinking of it as a body of work, an entity, as opposed to a website, which by its very nature offers a matrix-like, versus linear, experience.
It was interesting to see themes emerge, which I highlight in the Preface. One concept was conviviality, those moments when you’re in an enoteca and it feels warm and hospitable, and there’s a joyous environment surrounding wine that’s not focused on consumerism, it’s not focused on points or prestige, it’s just focused on goodness and communing with friends. Conviviality as an invitation to others go deeper into wine.
Who’s the book’s ideal reader?
I try to write so that someone with a passing interest in wine feels like I’m engaging with them and not talking over their head, and at the same time someone who’s a connoisseur and really understands wine learns something new or gains a perspective they hadn’t had before.
You often hand the mic to the producers, but you have your own editorial perspectives. Talk about that balance.
There are certainly times with winemakers, even ones I respect and like, where I know they’re selling me something and I have to leave that to the side. In terms of my own perspectives, I think Sicily deserves equal attention as Tuscany and Piedmont. It’s just as compelling. I would say the same thing for Friuli, certain pockets of Campania. Also, I organized the One Hundred Wines to Admire from south to north. I’ve never seen another Italian wine book start south and goes north. I flipped the script to get people’s attention.
What other book topics did you consider?
Initially I started piecing together a book focused on the heroic vineyards of Italy, those little hidden jewels, and in this book I did end up including a vineyard in the lagoon of Venice, vineyards of Valtellina, a vineyard on the backside of Montalcino. I also thought about partnering with a sommelier who is really passionate about Sangiovese. But I think for a first book, it’s better to work on your own.
—on your own with your marvelous wife, who’s a fantastic graphic designer!
Well, thank you. Of course, I didn’t do this completely on my own. She did all the layout design, font selection, choosing the paper stock and the cover stock. We deliberated as a team because we really wanted the highest quality.
What advice would you give to others who want to self-publish a book?
Know what you’re getting into financially. In my case, because it’s a photography book, and I also paid an editorial advisor and proofreader, my unit cost ranges from $23 to $34. But you can be successful by being small. I’m looking for a thousand true fans rather than thinking this has to be on the New York Times bestseller list or move 50,000 copies on Amazon.
We’ve done a series of book launch parties in our backyard, a mixture of people who are in the wine business in Denver. We have the book, of course, plus homemade focaccia and appetizers and some of the wines I featured. Once people see the book they go, You know, I know someone else who’d be interested in this! I’m gonna buy a second copy and give it to them. Being a published author means I’m also getting more interest in acting as an educator and speaker.
So whatever your field may be, if you’re thinking about writing a self-published book, there are other advantages besides just book sales. But boy, I tell you, writing a book takes it out of you. You have to anticipate the feeling after it’s done that it’s going to be hard to write again for a while. That’s hard when you’ve got a commitment to readers who are paying for your website.
What was the hardest thing about making this book?
The hardest thing was doing all those hours of unpaid work—all the time on a plane, on a bus, driving around Italy. Also the printing and the editorial costs, paying for my camera and software. At times it got discouraging. It’s like, God, I’m sinking so much into this, and I’m not getting anywhere. I’m in the mire. Anthony Giglio’s Foreword came in at a time when I was feeling like, who am I to be doing this book? What he wrote put wind in my sails. I’m also grateful to Scott Thomas, who helped me with the Wines to Admire. He’s been a great advocate.
What was easiest thing about making this book?
I’m not sure any of it was easy! Maybe photo selection, because once it went into layout, I knew what I wanted for the opening photograph, the portrait. As it came together there was a moment when I crested the hill and could feel that this thing would actually come to fruition. I see it now. It’s becoming real.
Did writing the book change you? What have you learned?
It’s such a cliché, but publishing a book has been on my bucket list since high school. I didn’t know what that book would be, and in my 20s I tried to write some nonfiction, tried to write a novel. It was all universally bad, and I think it was because it was so self-centered. With wine, I’ve learned the beauty of writing about others, in stepping outside of myself.
Opening a Bottle: Italy is available worldwide in print and digital formats. Learn more and access purchase links on the book’s webpage.
All photos ©Kevin Day/Opening a Bottle except author photo ©Alex Halleran