I am in love with art in all its forms, indeed I find that everything is art, if viewed from a certain perspective.
The embroidery art however transcends any other medium I have used; I can’t believe I found this form of expression only in the second half of my life.
A clue should have been given to me by the house drawers, full of old fabrics of all sorts, recovered from kits of the last century; some never used, others so consumed as to have only a frayed texture. Towels, sheets, dusters, cereal sacks, napkins, shrouds, handkerchiefs and scraps that I didn’t dare to use, because they had something too precious, sacred, needed calm, rest, the right moment.
I had to embroider the aprons of a dear friend of mine in order to realize how much I liked touching the texture of the fabrics, listening to the whisper of the thread passing through the fabric and making it vibrate slightly, smelling the scent of cotton, linen, hemp dried in the sun, without other smells, just fabric, sun and wind.
I received two important gifts from embroidery: the possibility of making art without polluting the land that I love and respect so much, and the rediscovery of the Neapolitan slowness I had given up for decades. Without slowness one cannot embroider, embroidery is definitely a slow art . Besides being an ancient art, very appropriate for one who feels old from the cradle.
I weave on the fabrics what I love most; mainly the forces of nature, clouds, wind, plants, existing and non-existing animals; but also something abstract, which in its intangibility contains the most important meaning, for me: the freedom to see in it what one is, as in a mirror.
Here, what I try to create is just a mirror, where everyone can reflect what they feel at a given moment, or what they feel they are. Something that you love or hate, that touches deeply, that is different for everyone; that presents doubts or confirmations on one’s path, something very personal and unique, evocative, different from what I feel.
I like to force the fabric to ripple, to fill with wrinkles, like veins that draw a lattice on the skin, or paths that meet, cross and then run away. I do not want to express suffering, only freedom to feel, to be, to want, without fear, without constraints and away from the control mania that obsesses humanity.