Dove risuona la musica che ho dentro,
la melodia che mi fa ballare tra le cose.
Ascoltare
is an open,
indulgent and absorbed gaze.
It is a bridge
thrown across to others,
where you can meet
and embrace each other halfway.
It’s attention to what is not said,
to what is not written,
to the blink of an eye
or the shivering of the skin.
Moving by, moving with.
Everything is charged with its own feeling.
Like waves,
that are charged with immense distances,
of the rays of the sun,
of the depth of the night,
the fury of the storm.
They tell you about when and how high they became
and how, then, they became very small,
until they reached you.
And everything is contact,
and everything is,
still,
meeting.
Close-up di un’orchidea Phalaenopsis e Vitty “Sunset with the Queen”
and embrace each other halfway.
It’s attention
to what is not said,
to what is not written,
to the blink of an eye
or the shivering of the skin.
Moving by, moving with. Everything is charged with its own feeling.
Like waves,
that are charged with immense distances,
of the rays of the sun,
of the depth of the night,
the fury of the storm.
They tell you about when and how high they became
and how, then, they became very small,
until they reached you.
And everything is contact,
and everything is,
still,
meeting.
Close-up di un’orchidea Phalaenopsis e Vitty “Sunset with the Queen”
Ricordare,
wandering around the heart
with a butterfly net,
surrounded
by a quantum cloud
of joys and sorrows,
and not being able to know
their name and distance
at the same time.
To aspire
to be a butterfly
around the heart
of someone you love.
Vitty “Ultimo Tango a Parigi” and the Sardinian sky from the “La Prisgiona” nuraghe.
of joys and sorrows,
and not being able to know
their name and distance at the same time.
To aspire
to be a butterfly
around the heart
of someone you love.
Sometimes it is urgent to go back to the essence. Therefore, I silently and fully listen to what I have inside of me. For this to happen, I need to distance myself from all things noisy, so I leave.
My favorite place is the island, and I choose a new island every time. Every island has its themes. The choice is never random nor logical. I have the sea around me; its waves leave treasures that come from stories afar. The wind, restless, is brutally honest. The sand opens up universes of colors. And, when I am there, there is nothing more to do than to open myself, let the matter reveal itself, the form alight, the color speak. Then there was Mario on the beach, the homemade carpaccio, and the blue eyes. Instead of drawing, I welcome a vision. Instead of making, I meet pieces of me in things and see my story reflected in them. Sometimes it is urgent to dive into this sea, to dance.
Our display area in the Massimo Bonini show-room in Viale Manzoni, Milan.
Il mio luogo preferito è l’isola. Ogni volta scelgo un’isola nuova. Ed ogni isola ha I suoi argomenti. La scelta non è mai casuale, né mai ragionata. Attorno ho il mare, le sue onde che depositano tesori di storie lontane. Il vento, inquieto, di una sincerità che non fa sconti. La sabbia, che dischiude universi di colori. E, quando sono lì, non devo fare altro che aprirmi, lasciare che la materia si riveli, la forma si posi, il colore parli. E poi c’era Mario sulla spiaggia, il carpaccio di casa, il blu negli occhi… E anziché disegnare, accolgo una visione. Anziché fare, incontro pezzi di me nelle cose e ci trovo riflessa la mia storia. Sometimes it is urgent to dive into all this sea, to dance.
Vitty “Ultimo Tango a Parigi” e il cielo della Sardegna dal nuraghe “La Prisgiona”.
Sognare,
daydreaming,
getting lost in the clouds.
In the dream,
dating ideas
at the extreme edges of reality.
A joyful wandering
towards chance
at mazurka pace,
when the shortest way
between two hearts
is the arabesque.
at the extreme edges of reality.
A joyful wandering
towards chance
at mazurka pace,
when the shortest way when the shortest way
is the arabesque.
Uno scorcio di Lucia “Rapsodia in blu” e Casper “Jonquil AB”
It always happens to those who, from the outside, look in an open window to see an infinitely more endless landscape than those who look outward. There is no space deeper, richer and more mysterious
than a room that is furnished, lived in and temporarily uninhabited. Everything that lies beneath the light of the star we call the Sun is infinitely less interesting than what goes on behind a curtain. When the wind stops being an accomplice and conspires to unravel the mystery. When the old and heated tungsten of the light bulbs or – good last ones – the cold and cynical diodes of the LEDs, spy on life in the world outside, in a magical theater of shadows. That life that dreams, that suffers, that rejoices and that, fatally, lives.
Of a furnished, lived-in and temporarily uninhabited room. Tutto ciò che giace sotto la luce della stella che chiamiamo Sole è infinitamente meno interessante di ciò che succede dietro una tenda. Quando il vento smette di essere complice e congiura per svelarne il mistero. Quando il vecchio e accalorato tungsteno della lampadina o – buoni ultimi – i freddi e cinici diodi dei led, spiano la vita al mondo di fuori, in un magico teatro delle ombre. Quella vita che sognavo, che soffre, che gioisce e che, fatalmente, vive.
Lo spazio espositivo di Milano, presso il nostro show-room di Massimo Bonini in viale Manzoni.
The sky is blue, and so is the sea, an obvious thing to say. Nevertheless, it has not always been like this. Apart from some shades, our ancestors (ancient Greeks, Arabs, and Jews) did not know the color blue. In the ‘800, William Gladstone a scholar,
noticed that in the Odyssey, Homer talks about an ocean “dark as wine” and refers to other shades of the color, none close to today’s definition. Even the old Hindi, Chinese and Jewish languages never mentioned this color. The first civilization to use the word blue was the Egyptian one; they used blue dyes in frescoes and make-up. That is not to say that our ancestors did not see what we see, more that they were not aware of the color until they had a word to describe it. In other words, things start to exist when we name them. The names we give to objects and people hide stories and personalities. It is for this reason that all of our bags are always carefully named.
The Big Wave in blu “Ortigia” and emerald “Teulada”.
a scholar, noticed that in the Odyssey, Homer talks about an ocean “dark as wine” and refers to other shades of the color, none close to today’s definition. Even the old Hindi, Chinese and Jewish languages never mentioned this color. The first civilization to use the word blue was the Egyptian one; they used blue dyes in frescoes and make-up. That is not to say that our ancestors did not see what we see, more that they were not aware of the color until they had a word to describe it. In other words, things start to exist when we name them. The names we give to objects and people hide stories and personalities. It is for this reason that all of our bags are always carefully named.
The Big Wave in blu “Ortigia” and emerald “Teulada”.
When art, relieved of the burden of meaning, becomes an object for fashion. And when the object, freed from the destiny of function, coincides with art. Mundus Muliebris, or "no message to deliver". It is a project, a "love" affair with Patrizio Di Massimo's art. The "Carmen con mano" dresses up with the artist's drawings and colors, in a symbiotic relationship between art and fashion. Both of them, only together, live a love affair of pure relationship, that is to say they become pure ornament. Without a message to leave to the world, but without giving up a precise function. Totally necessary objects. Totally indispensable meetings.
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