Le débutant

Tonight I will leave here moving with a night train to Vienna.
After Kobenhavn, Rome, Palermo and Paris the time spent in the atelier has been dedicated to study and progress with the main fields of pure research, looking forward the progress made by my hand that needed to stay quiet for a very long time for an accident happened on May of last year.
This accident arrived in the conclusion of a very difficult moment of the life I was living before, and made me leave at the end in thus private and accidental circumstanes also my work as researcher for a fashion label.
I waited a very long time to get back drawing and at the beginning I even thought it was impossible - the thumb of the right hand was completely gone - but thanks to a very long moment passed on a phisyotherapic rehabilitation and study, the second of January I took a pencil and I couldn't believe even to my eyes. I'm drawing. I have to do it not many hours a day still, but my hand seems to me - I'm not my doctor - working as before.
So, I leave you my first unfinished drawing, hoping you like my total "coming-back", please have fun.
Thanks to all the people that is following this page. During the time in Vienna I will finally be most of the time creating with Henna on our common projects so :
- You are our new Testimonials"
- Obsession 21
- ...And some other surprises
If I won't post many things here so, it's just because maybe our common blog (that you can find on the right of my page) will be full of material we are doing together in the atelier there.
I'm sure anyway that if I' ll spend some time explaining what are my research in the last period on Time Organic, Pijama Party, Performances Privèes and all the rest that has been raw published here about, well, it could be surely nice and an opportunity to make understand instead of just communicating privately by mail to the ones that are writing me, what I'm doing.

Soon: Time Organic - Accident of an Accident -

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- d1 ->

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Do without thoughts, write without words

I remember that when I was a little kid one day I runt so much I arrived untill the end of the cornfields. The end of the cornfields for me was the end of the everywhere, like the limits of the world, but more little, suitable for a kid's limits of the world. - It's by this maybe, I'm thinkig now, I considered the school for the first years something that belong to an other universe, and the childrens there, kind of aliens like me coming from other planets- . My father anyway, that day was planting a long line of weeping willows and cedar trees along the perimeter dividing home from the near fields and he wasn't looking at me very much. - It was Sunday I remember - . I remember at the end of the cornfields I begun feeling many little things on my legs walking in troops in tickling bites that became minute by minute more intense. I remember it was Sunday and my father was far far far away because I runt untill the end of the cornfields - I remember - and I begun shaking my arms and my legs and my father from far far far away replyed with an hello - shaking one of his arms too - and I remember that Sunday I discovered what was the sensation of going untill the limits of the known world and beeing under the attack of fire-red-troops-of-swarming-ants-walking-on-my-skin. It was Sunday I remember. And I begun, from the moment it ended, losing this as other memories, and now sometimes they come back. And I like the taste of it now, and the feeling of those ants, and the Sunday and his sundayness and that I runt fast as fast as I could through the cornfields and the ants in thousands walking along in lines as the weeping willow and cedar trees my father was planting far far far away. It was Sunday I remember. Maybe, but it's not important. It's really not important now

Somethin' lookin suspicious

When you are awaken in the middle of the night for some little noises coming from - you don't understand exactly where - and you get up you know, just for beeing "hundred-per-cent-sure" it's not the toilet exploding, or the gas from the kitchen, and you find - The Something - you made during Sunday just for having fun, that you know you left unfinished before going to sleep just with tentacles and a wooden carapace, that slithers with thus tentacles and this carapace in silent movements around the studio picking up books and having a conversation with your broom, well, let's say you don't feel happy like Mr Geppetto the carpenter with his little Pinocchio.
I think I'm going to bed anyway. I left The Something watching tv, I think he knows yet how to use the dvd player. Next time anyway I'll build up a mammouth.

Soon: Pijama Party - Sleep Walker