Gino, one of the inhabitants of Villa Solaria, one day says to me – It is an ancient painting – and I am not sure why he says it, but it is true.
It happens in the days of my third collective border experience: this will prove to be more complex than the others. The climate of the Rio favela and the mistrust of the Guaranì native were certainly not a walk; perhaps time has mitigated its angularity. Here I had to immediately give up the idea of having a meeting mediated by manual moments. Everything is entrusted to the verbal exchange. Thus the conflict arises and arrogant moves.
Days, all, equal, outside, meetings, different, inside, warmth, strength, screams, smile, white, yellow, resigned, giant, anger, suspended. Land where to be born. Beatrice and Lina, Giovanni and Pia, Vera, Silvia, Carmela. All the others.
But let’s go back to Gino who, perhaps unconsciously, has grasped a part of the soul of this painting, made essentially of glazes, a technique that the Ancients used to set the tone for painting.
Encounter is the whole meaning of the work and the goal of those bundles of signs carved into the wall. It was very strong, so strong that it was sometimes dark: those dark spots in this light sea.
But it’s not just dark. Yellows, a little in the form of tools for the earth, a little in the form of aids for old age, so, thrown, with anger, in that part that grows from below, like everything that is young. At the top, a straight path flows and dives, in the desire for a meeting.
An unconscious movement of poetry remains.
Sesto Fiorentino, 10 October 1992