Fear of what is larger and archaic has gradually led man to strive to control the elements in an attempt to master them. This mindless struggle has made him increasingly distrustful of nature, seen as a stepmother instead of feeling part of it.

The work illustrates how natural events, though extraordinarily powerful or dangerous, are now being instrumentalized to the point of distorting their original meaning.

The overlapping pages of the work, each intended to symbolize a different narrative of reality, show how the layering of purposely constructed messages can instill catastrophism, and drive humanity to shelter and shut down by forgetting valuable knowledge passed down from generation to generation.

The metal vortex on the first layer of the work represents the whirlwind of information by which we are bombarded daily, which makes it impossible to distinguish real information from constructed information; in the various layers the same event is told through different points of view resulting in altered and distorted as in a distorting mirror.

It is no accident that the last layer is a wire mesh, preventing us from rejoining the truth of the facts.

The breast, a synecdoche of the woman’s body that becomes a concept of the female archetype, is enclosed and constrained in a metal cage, which is not meant to protect it but rather serves to exhibit it and put it on display, similar to the bodices that fashion imposed as a canon of beauty.

The cage is as colorful as that of an exotic bird, full of frills and lacework that highlight the female as the man desires her to show off for his pleasure. The nipple is turgid, the areola is evident, and the breast forms are abundant, to suggest fertility no longer in the service of continuity of the species but only of vanity and sexual play.

The woman, dressed as a doll, is stripped of the power of creation to be relegated to ornament and amusement.

The lid of the cage, a sort of crown looming over her like a spider, seems almost to mock her in the role imposed on her, while the central jewel, made of a spherical lead bullet from a muzzle-loading rifle, set with silver wire, stares at her almost as if it were a lustful eye grazing her nipple like a sword of Damocles.

The embroidery case is a precious crystal and silver vase, which like Pandora’s contains something inscrutable: the same the metal label that hangs on the front is empty, suggesting that the contents cannot be known.

Lifting the lid one stands before a scrutinizing eye, surrounded by rays of light; the subject of the embroidery. Inside the vase rotates in an infinite orbit a milky glass sphere, the eyeball that sees all.

The position of the embroidery transforms the square doily into a rhombus, changing it from a stable, balanced and solid figure into something flexible and adaptable, vital, moving, as a self-respecting higher entity should be.

The subject of the embroidery is an iris, a flower that represents absolute trust, wisdom and hope, on which rests a flying insect, which may once have been a caterpillar feeding on the same plant.

Caterpillars and insects are considered pests, thieves of food, attackers of our survival, enemies to be eradicated at any cost, even by poisoning the resources on which we both depend. If we could metabolize the fact that they are an integral part of our common life cycle, we would understand that we depend on cooperation with these creatures.

The embroidery, like the box that reinforces and amplifies the concept of a unique ecosystem, wishes for peace among the creatures of the earth, and portrays a serene moment of acceptance and immersion in nature that reminds us that the only way to prolong the truce is to understand that all living things are connected to each other.

As in the story, the work is structured on two parallel and opposing planes. Both embroidery and custody are mirrored and equivalent; neither belief prevails over the other but they interpenetrate, as in the Chinese concept of yin and yang, merging and giving rise to a continuous cycle in which they coexist.

In a conflict, it is not possible to judge whether the decision to rebel or the decision to submit is more ethically right because reality is not dual but is a continuous flux, the energies that compose it are in constant transformation into each other, and it is wrong to see existence divided into radically distinct and separate fundamental principles.

The mother is an archetypal figure who carries with her many contradictions: she is nourishment, roots, memory, belonging, and at the same time something to be distanced from in order to find one’s own identity.

It is the first intimate relationship we know, and perhaps the most intense; only through a lifelong journey of separation is it possible to see the person who fathered us for who she really is.

Reconstructing the mother figure as an adult is not unlike trying to grasp elusive memories like fish, to be stored and catalogued inside test tubes.

The 21 fish in the embroideries represent the many facets of her personality: an innate survival instinct, the need to escape all constraints while conforming to the pack, an almost autistic stubbornness to be worn like armor to protect her extreme fragility.

The box is composed of only seemingly random or contrasting elements: sharp objects to be guarded against, fragile materials to be handled with care, animal remains as ritual ingredients to exorcise its mystery, everyday objects as amulets to seize its essence.

The nursery rhyme from which the title originates, heard uttered by the artist’s mother countless times since childhood, encapsulates the full force of the magical thinking of a woman who had to cling to the will to get on in life by raising three children alone, yet failed to achieve what she desired.

”Chi nascerà pesciano / ha la fortuna in mano / con molta forza e ardire / conquista posti e lire / riflette ed intuisce / ma guai se l’atterrisce / l’accumulo dei beni / sorvegli sangue e reni” (he who will be born under the sign of Pisces / has good fortune in his hand / with much strength and boldness / he conquers places and money / he reflects and intuits / but woe if it terrifies him / the accumulation of goods / he oversees blood and kidneys).

Specifically, the embroidery and its wrapping focus on memory and its countless facets. Taking its cue from the scripture, the work imagines the mind as a large palace whose rooms overflow with memories that evoke emotions, episodes, traumas and hopes.

In this sense, each of us is the warehouse keeper of a serial accumulator who cannot get rid of all kinds of junk sprung from the sum of a life’s moments, seemingly without logical meaning.

How to decide which memories are most important? Which ones to keep and which ones to discard? For each of us, a candy wrapper, a key, a broken toy soldier become authentic treasures because they are doors that open worlds.

With this mysterious logic, the candid simplicity of the cloth is juxtaposed, in obvious contrast, with the baroque ensemble of the paper wrapper full of colors, drawings and drawers from which to extract objects that seem to be picked up by a child after a stormy sea, to represent the mind of the protagonist, at once disconnected and punctilious in its attempt to control the uncontrollable.

Like the poem, the embroidery and the box describe the willingness to embark on a rebirth, springing from the conquest of a recently acquired awareness that compels one to blossom again, after a painful period of hibernation, to cover oneself with light and color.

It is a hymn to spring, to a pagan easter, to the glorification of the cyclical nature of life, which after each phase of closure bursts forth with an innate load of still virgin potential.

Everything here is sprouting, opulence, starting from the embroidery flower that explodes like a firework, to the swarming of life that seems to pay homage to the winged figure, which towers over the lid of the box like a totem, announcing with its rattle the arrival of a resurrection, while at the bottom industrious insects remove the remnants of the past.

The esoteric symbolism of the crocus, ever since the Arabic word sa’fran, meaning “splendor of the sun”, recalls material and spiritual wealth; but also well-being, joy and happiness. Giving saffron since ancient times was a wish for a long and prosperous life.

This meaning is reinforced by the elongated shape of the design that unfurls from the bulb along the full height of the plant to the petals, in the tension of ascending toward the sunlight. From the depths of the earth the need to become light seems to reach upward: a promise of personal growth both earthly and heavenly.

The box, too, reiterates this concept in its bright colors and metallic applications, which make it look like the casket of a precious gift. The plaque pasted on one of its sides, salvaged from an old elevator, is a further reminder of the compulsion to elevate oneself.

Unlike the poem, here everything is centered on the love of life itself, on the celebration of moments lived cheerfully, evoked by the floral embroidery and the objects that make up the box; the safety pins that run along the lower edge of the embroidery jingle and shimmer as if to call attention to the passing moments.

The bright colors of the layers of oil paint, the coins, leaves, seeds, wood, and the mirror on the red satin pillow, resembling a full moon, recall the different aspects of existence, from the deepest to the most futile, that make it worth living.

It is an exhortation to play, to lightness, to the importance of remembering to live by letting the current rock you confidently.

Every element contributes to reiterating this concept: the choice of a particularly elaborate shirt shoot as a base; the threads that branch outward from the lettering like tentacles, almost as if they were synaptic links that unite thoughts and associations of ideas; the modular repetitiveness of the chickpeas at the bottom of the box, equal to each other but not identical; the tinkling sound of the test tubes that mark time; even the embroidery of the passion flower, an intricate labyrinth of petals and stamens, with a penetrating scent that leaves one almost dazed.

The sentence, embroidered on a thick webbing made from the edge of a vintage cotton bed sheet, is taken from the passage in the passage in which the narrator’s voice is struck by the knowledge that every word of her conversation with the protagonist will remain forever etched in her memory, as if carved in stone.

The act of embroidering also transforms the words into something immanent, almost eternal, and the presence of mother-of-pearl buttons of different shapes and sizes, sewn in rows along the length of the webbing, reiterates with manic cadence the permanence and uniqueness of the letters over time.

This work also represents an early experiment in making embroidery that could be worn around the wrist or wrapped around a stand, like a secular prayer as a reminder to carefully select the words to be used and to weigh their meaning.

Unlike Sottocosta, which portrays a calm and idle foreshortening, such as that of a sailboat moored a short distance from land, and Naufragare, which suggests reliance on the forces of nature, the spontaneous gathering of resources in an unexpected situation, this work reconstructs the sensory experience of crossing on an old ferry, and in particular the suggestions of the engine room, which is referred to as the ditch in the vernacular.

The embroidery map becomes a tool for achieving set goals, for precisely plotting the established course; the box and objects evoke the thrust of the engines, the stench of naphtha and lubricant, the noises of the machines, the saltiness corroding the metal.

It is still voyage as meditation; in this case it is no longer wandering, but collaboration between man and sea to reach a destination. The abandonment of mental control is achieved through manual labor that allows one to enter a state of presence in the present moment. Physical involvement and focused attention on action reconnect us with our roots restoring mental clarity and a sense of continuity and belonging to a larger human tradition.

Shipwreck is not understood here as a violent and dramatic experience, but as an unexpected turning point that becomes a reassuring refuge where one can find asylum from life’s adversities.

The storm, which seemed a destructive force, becomes instead an ally, helping to discover the beauty of being alive. The sea is a mother that sustains and welcomes, cradling the castaway lying on a makeshift boat with its wave-like breath.

Adrift on a raft, surrounded by objects recovered from the sea that become precious amulets, lonely sailing becomes an experience of beauty and self-discovery, in which man finds shelter and salvation in the power of nature.

The embroidery map is not the route to be found to return to the previous life, but the record of the accumulated experiences and discoveries noted in the course of the new journey undertaken.

Embroidery and box depict the dual nature of birds, torn between the safety of the nest and the instinctive need to soar, and are meant to describe those moments in life when one is overwhelmed by an uncontrollable impulse, in this case the need to make art.

This irresistible call, like the whistles used to flush out animals in the undergrowth, urges one to come out into the open to follow one’s instincts.

The bird-shaped wooden branch watches over the egg enclosed inside the box: a symbol of a new beginning with all its unrealized potential.

The crack on the lid of the box, repaired with a pour of beeswax to imitate the Japanese art of Kintsugi, warns us that neglecting our vocation opens a dangerous rift in the soul, which can only be healed by listening to the inner voice.

In nature’s cycle of transformation birth and death are intimately linked: the end of the tree determines the beginning of new lives and its substance is transformed to generate more matter. A perpetual circle, in which nothing is created and nothing is lost, but everything becomes something new.

The metal box covered with moss and bark is reminiscent in its appearance and smells of a dry tree, and vaguely evokes the skeleton of a bird, like a messenger announcing the decomposition, decay, and degradation of matter returning to earth.

Its name is inspired by a line by Borges, and as in poetry, the sea is a primordial deity, an ancestral force that transcends man’s existence and eludes his attempts to understand it.

The dermaskeleton of a sea urchin, which is also the subject of the embroidery, is wrapped by the fabric like a host or a sacred object of a pagan religion.

All the materials that cover the box evoke the sea, like treasures carried by the waves gathered in an Andean despacho ceremony, exorcising its fury and invoking its thaumaturgic power.

Reinforcing the concept are the salt encrusted on the lid, the embroidery fabric reminiscent of fishermen’s nets, and the interior of the box covered with shells that look like the eyes of an abyssal creature.

The title quotes an invocation uttered by the character of Macbeth, who loses everything by trying to force fate; only when he finally relinquishes control, accepting the consequences, does he discover the true essence of life.

The violence of the needlework on the impalpable fabric, pulled and wrinkled by the threads, the tearing of its torn edges, represent the fury of the elements, from which the flowers of embroidery do not escape, even at the cost of their own safety. Even the box pierced by branches, as if crossed by life itself, and the feathery seeds carried by the wind, symbolize surrendering to the course of events by trusting in the natural flow of things.

The crown, a symbol of royalty, becomes the consecration of those who have the courage to live life with the lightness of play.

The title of the work is excerpted from the film Fight Club, in which the main character identifies himself as a penguin gliding away from trouble along an expanse of ice to highlight “the ability to let what does not matter slide by”.

Water, while meekly allowing itself to flow through and acquiring the shape of that which contains it, is nonetheless relentless in its free flow, bypassing and crossing every obstacle, and is capable of changing the shape of even the stone or riverbed in which it flows.

The presence of so many glass objects interacting with each other symbolizes transparency, the search for truth, authenticity and clarity, but also fragility and vulnerability in the face of adversity and the challenges of life, the ability to take on any form without giving up its essence, the characteristic of letting light through and reflecting it or even increasing it.

Koi carps, resilient and adaptable fishes, symbols of wisdom and luck in Japanese culture, represent perseverance in the face of difficulties. With their ability to glide and dart within currents, they are the embodiment of the skill to accomplish great feats without fear.