Copying a masterpiece allows me to savour it to the fullest.
I savour each line and each stroke, while I try to look at the paper with someone else's eyes. Looking at this old copy of Egon Schiele's "Freundschaft" ("Friendship") makes me think of old and new friends: of Summa, Lauretta and Ninetta, from my old life, of Giorgia and Roberta, whom I met here in Pescara where my second life started; of Cristina, Tiziana and Suzanna, kindred spirits whose words reach me across the web; of Letizia and Giuseppe, so much more than just a sister and a brother. I think of friendship and savour being surrounded by people I can count on.
Copiare un capolavoro mi permette di assaporarlo fino in fondo. Assaporo ogni linea e ogni pennellata, mentre tento di guardare la carta con gli occhi di qualcun altro. Guardare questa vecchia copia di "Freundschaft" ("Amicizia") di Egon Schiele mi fa pensare alle mie amiche, vecchie e nuove: Summa, Lauretta e Ninetta, della mia vecchia vita, Giorgia e Roberta, che ho conosciuto qui a Pescara, dove ha avuto inizio la mia seconda vita; Cristina, Tiziana e Suzanna, anime affini le cui parole mi raggiungono attraverso la Rete; Letizia e Giuseppe, che sono molto di più che semplicemente una sorella e un fratello. Penso all'amicizia e assaporo l'essere circondata da persone su cui posso contare.
It can be done, it can be done You can take it, you can leave it It can be done, it can be done You can run and fly. You can sing and you can shout You can sell and buy You can steal and present You can cry and dance. It can be done, it can be done You can take or leave You can want and fight Stop and give up. It can be done, it can be done You can take or leave You can grow and change And continue to sail. It can be done, it can be done You can take or leave It can be done, it can be done Leave and return. You can betray and conquer You can say and then deny You can play and work Hate and then love. It can be done, it can be done You can take or leave It can be done, it can be done You can eat and fast. You can sleep and suffer You can laugh and dream You can fall and make mistakes And then start again. It can be done, it can be done You can take or leave It can be done, it can be done You can ask and find. You can teach and tell You can pretend and lie You can destroy and burn And then try again. It can be done.
Playing with suminagashi, again. These three spooky creatures emerged, from the floating ink whirls and from my mind.
Which one scares you the most (if any)?
Ancora esperimenti con il suminagashi. Queste tre sinistre creature sono emerse dai vortici dell'inchiostro fluttuante, e dalla mia mente. Quale vi sembra la più spaventosa (posto che le troviate tali)?
Experimenting with suminagashi ("ink-floating"),an ancient Japanese technique of decorating paper. Ink is dropped carefully to float on a still water surface and then blown across to form delicate swirls, after which the ink is picked up by laying a sheet of rice paper atop the ink covered water. The result is unpredictable and makes me think of geological strata beneath the earth surface.
"Immota manet" ("It remains immovable") is my hometown's motto. L'Aquila has survived many earthquakes. I hope it will survive this one too. But it will never be the same. It did not remain unmoved.
Painted 12 years ago during a sailboat holiday, this little watercolour takes me back to an atmosphere of peacefulness and of feeling at one with nature.
One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time - André Gide
There are decisions that are particularly hard to make. But after so much thinking, sleepless nights, aimless days, tears and hope and anger and fear, there comes a time when all that's left is a clear mind. (Well, actually some tears and anger and fear remain. But no more doubts).
Above is an excerpt from the notes I used to take when I studied tai chi, to remember movements and sequences. I have practiced tai chi chuan for ten years. It is a beautiful and deep martial art that requires a lifelong study and never becomes boring. I loved it and it helped me in many ways. Of course, it also helped me manage stress during difficult times. But the earthquake + my father's illness + the problems with my husband were a bit too much. Far from the dojo, from my master and my fellow practitioners I could/would not find the time, place, concentration, energy and will to continue practicing. But I am confident that as I go further, step by step, towards regaining control of my life, tai chi will return to me.
Every now and then I am worried that my daughter (Lucrezia, almost 10) is watching a bit too much TV and that she might lose her creative spirit. Then, between two cartoon marathons, she says: "I want to make something with the pyrograph" and she makes this:
On June 15 my dad passed away, in a hospital in Padova, far from home. He wanted to recover. He wanted to visit Berlin, to buy a bicycle, to learn to play the guitar, to return to L'Aquila. He loved books, Jorge Luis Borges, music,humor, teaching, his family, his hometown. He was shy, gentle and very loved. This was his library. This was him.
I found this today while decluttering. Made more than a year ago using watercolor and an old letter from an old friend, it is very imperfect but I like it because this is how I feel my relationship with my past should look like.
I thought that in this journey towards (re)discovering my creativity, it could be good, every now and then, to recall to memory some of the many projects from the times when I was a little girl and was always making, building, crafting something, or trying to, or looking for someone who would teach me. This is my first attempt, which also happens to be a last-minute submission to Illustration Friday.
I waited before posting these, because I wanted to post the last 3 postcards all together. But the 10th never arrived. So here they are, the beautiful works by Sara (? can't read the name)
Almost one year has passed, and the earthquake debris still have not been removed. The town center is still closed to the people who used to live or work there. Many or us have not even seen it after the earthquake. We have had enough of it. Thus, the people of L'Aquila decided to remove the debris by themselves and have been doing it, with wheelbarrows and buckets, for three weeks now. On 28th February I was there with my family (my husband and my eldest daughter are in the drawing above). I met so many of my fellow citizen whom I hadn't been seeing for months, I saw the main street full of life, smiling faces, voices, again. I felt part of a community, again. We all were there to demonstrate, but also to work, in a very concrete way. It was beautiful. It felt like home. Almost.
I received this postcard from Zarah. She also wrote kind words on the back. My daughter loves rain, so she immediately chose this one as her favourite. Actually, I like all of them.
I love how the postcards I am receiving are all different, but complementing each other. They are currently being displayed on my fridge. I hope they will distract me from eating snacks and chocolate at night...
I joined my first DIY Postcard Swap, organized by Hanna. Each participant prepares 10 handmade (painted, collaged, altered etc.) postcards for as many creative people around the world. I just received the addresses of my 10 swap partners: from Malaysia to Great Britain, from New Zealand to Singapore.. I can't wait to see what will come into my mailbox! In the meantime, I have prepared 6 out of my 10 postcards. Here they are.
There is also a flickr group if you are curious about what the other swappers have prepared.