In some precious moments, when you are dealing with life, without any intervention from the conscience you find yourself sorted to run on a track that you have not chosen. If you can pretend you haven’t noticed, and look away, things line up one after the other in a magical, surprising way; it is no longer you who create. Something else moves you, you are a desperately happy instrument, everything flows without friction.

rust embroidery art

I experienced this sensation, for example, when I was following dance lessons: disconnecting the head was the only way to move smoothly; when the mind stopped counting, the body tuned in to the music and did everything himself. Another time, late in the afternoon, lying across the bed, the window open, my consciousness became thin, airy. I listened to the people on the street coming home from work, and I felt the collective energy, of people, of time, of trees and of wind, feeling part of it. This very intense feeling changed my life, and extinguished many of my fears. I possessed my individuality and at the same time I was merged with the universal energy, which was no longer around me, but was me.

rust embroidery

Something similar is starting to happen with embroidery. Some of them have taken unforeseen paths alone; it had already happened in a different way with one of the very first experiments I did, but now it’s more out of my control: I just do what the needle wants, without protesting, without opposing, without suggesting directions. Apparently after so many hours of dedication the mind understands that it can take a walk and lets go of the reins. It is a truly wonderful feeling; finally alone, me and the world, without filters.


The archipelagos were born out of my carelessness. I had left some granules of the iron I use for plants in the laundry sink. Upon contact with water, they released a series of beautiful rust-colored stains on the enamel, and that’s where I thought I’d try it with fabrics. I fished an old cotton napkin out of the fabric drawer, made from the sheet of a kit, placed it on the kitchen sink and sprinkled some iron on it. Then I wet it and left it there for a couple of days.

rust textiles

When it dried it had a wonderful iron scent, like the one the ferries to the islands had when I went to the sea. The color seemed indelible, but to be safe, I made it run in the washing machine at 90 degrees, and from there to the July sun for a whole day: it didn’t break down one iota.

italian embroidery art

I followed the outline of the stain with a green-gold thread, and then I went over it, as I always do, with the white thread, around it, casually, as if it were a light that makes it shine and at the same time protects it. And when I finally looked at it I saw an island, a corner of a continent, a land emerging from the sea, a white and open sea.

I finished two of them, and now I’m working on the third. A couple of weeks to finish passing the white thread and then I’ll change again. I want to experiment and experiment, and experiment <3