Emerald City -Fanny&Alexander

Oz che ascolta i desideri della gente. Desideri di coraggio -di esser se stessi; di sentir/si; di trovarsi. Desideri d’identità che si è persa e si ricerca nel caos silenzioso di un dialogo che è già confessione: un parlare a se stessi. Un riflesso.   Riflesso di mago/dittatore che assorbe e rimanda nient’altro che le nostre paure. Le culla, vi si nutre, le risputa sotto forma di incubi e speranze. Riflesso di noi stessi dunque, che ci vediamo in lui che sente (fisicamente) cio’ che sentiamo (udiamo), annullando le apparenti dicotomie fra noi e l’atro; mente e cuore; realtà e finzione; udito e vista. I confini si annullano -la sua faccia è la nostra;  noi siamo lui -i  dittatori

Nel mio principio è la mia fine

“In my beginning is my end” aims to locate my self into History by  creating a link between private and public dimension, personal expectationsand political reality, individual failures and collective ones.

The overlapping of two different historical moments (before and after 09/11) and two different geographical places (Cagliari -IT and NY) emphasizes the moment where one’s individual experience collides with the  collective memory.

The old view of the Washington Square Park was taken by myself in 1990, when I briefly happened to be in NY with my parents. At the time, aged 15, I was studying science at the High school, and just amused myself by taking pictures  whenever I traveled. The possibility of becoming an artist never crossed my mind, nor the one that I might ever live in that same city I felt immediately attracted by.

Once home, I immediately printed that photo and hang it on my room. Out of the millions pictures I took during  my several trips with my family, that one was the first I ever decided to print and hang. I never paid attention to that anymore until this summer, where I came back to Sardinia and actually noticed it.

Was the idea of going to NY already inside  me? How the unconscious and repeated view of that  picture influenced my decision? Was I somehow expressing a desire or having some expectations toward that place? And furthermore: which kind of city I kept in my memory and which kind of city would I ever find?

It was 2008 when I finally went to NY. And if I ever expected something, it wasn’t there anymore.

*“In my beginning is my end”

The postcard, dated 9/21/2011 was sent from Cagliari -IT to more than 60 people living in NY.

Carnalità

“La soggettività del soggetto è vulnerabilità, esposizione dell’affezione, sensibilità, passività piu’ passiva di ogni passività, tempo irrecuperabile, diacronia non sincronizzabile della pazienza, esposizione sempre da esporre, esposizione da esprimere, e, cosi, da Dire e, cosi’, da Dare”

E. Levinas, Altrimenti che essere

At work

When the body calls

I’m in Paris.

I got here exactly a month ago, beginning of July. When I left NY, I was pretty sure what I’d be working on once here. Beside my project with Anna, I planned to keep working on my maps. What a better city than Paris to wonder around! After all, this is  where the whole idea of “Flâneurie” was born.

However, after a few days of intense walking, my “hips” started hurting so much that I had to rest for two entire days. It was the first time such a thing happened to me, and considering that I am slightly hypochondriac and I have a peculiar  relationship with my body I got scared and surprised. I called a Doctor, but before she visited me about one week passed by. In this brief lapse of time  I kept thinking how inappropriate the whole thing was: I had so much walking to do!

It turned out for being nothing more than a huge muscle contraction on both my legs -and not only. Basically my whole body was screaming out of tension and asking me to give it a break. Which I did. I always do what my body -far  smarter than I am; asks me to. Particularly, this time, it wasn’t only asking me to stop and relax, but to change my plan, to “go with the flow”, to accept what was happening, the present situation, unexpected and  unplanned, and take advantage of it.

I stopped walking around with the purpose of drawing some new maps, and got focused on where I was. The exact place I was leaving. What meant to be here, and the way I was inhabiting this place. What would that mean to look at the city from this one perspective, and what was this Convent’s story. I reminded myself how’s not always necessary to physically move to find new things, nor to travel around to be a nomad.

Small communities always have some comfortable and slightly morbid qualities that  make you feel like wanting to be part of them.

I couldn’t help to think of something I read long time ago.

I decided to spend more time here and hoped Paris would somehow “come to me”. I began a new work, and thought about a performance inside the Convent.

My muscles are much better.