Tessiture

Tessiture

Tessiture is a journey that lasted a year and a half — and yet, an entire lifetime, many lifetimes.
Boxes and containers like suitcases, filled with books, acrylics, brushes, canvases, fabrics, plaster, stucco, scattered sheets, and indistinct heaps of artistic material.

From the cupboards emerged that whole world that has always belonged to me. That urge and that need to shape, to write, to somehow express what remains caught in the mind, tattooed on the body, etched deep within.
Colored chalks, pencils, paper, and a typewriter bind me to a past made of carefree games, sea, and friendships — all swallowed in an instant by the pain of absence.
A small notebook and a pen were all I could take with me during the years I lived abroad, in the essential austerity of survival.

The present has allowed for safer, more stable harbors, yet the sea remains rough, and the time we live in restless, troubled by a thousand adverse winds.

Necessary and urgent was the need to find places where the canvases could come to life, where everything could finally be put in order and narrated — beginning with the self and with my work as an editor at Kaba and Al3vie — the human encounter and the encounter with History, with its ancient roots that reach us to overturn patriarchal and violent ways of doing and knowing.

A space and time to tell the “stories” of special, unique beings, Teachers and Masters who have marked my path, allowing me to know, to understand, to learn, and to reflect, in order to become a more self-aware woman, present to herself and an active part of a society increasingly ego-driven, superficial, and performative.

Each work is woven together with those who inhabit my present — in presence or in “co-presence,” as Aldo Capitini would say — and who have chosen to live by building and defending the idea of community, of peace, of a respectful and conscious spirituality, of a politics that cares for and thinks of the well-being of everyone, with special attention to the most fragile, marginalized, oppressed, poor, and often forgotten souls.

I assembled bark and dry branches with iron and threads to (re)compose, (re)generate, what the human eye sees as awkward, worthless scraps.
I joined, sewed, and tied different materials because their weave, their difference, gave rise to something else — and the beauty of the work is not the destination, but the opportunity for interlacing and encounter.

I worked fabrics, shaped molds, kneaded colors and powders to accompany every single word.
With gratitude and emotion, I brought this project to completion to remember and give thanks — through art and above all through personal study, indispensable for lifelong learning — to those who taught me a way of living, loving, being open to the open, to hospitality; showing me a way of writing, performing, working, being together, being in the world without being of the world, weaving relationships, building possible communities, believing in every creature in conjunction with the whole of Creation and every existential sphere: animal, vegetal, and mineral.

Tessiture… Tessiture for peace.