Another year has begun, the pandemic is still alive in our nightmares, and ... All the posts I wanted to write about how to start 2021 I deleted them.
Day by day, i lived in a loop, I wrote and deleted. ..
the external problems of the world, have vanished in front of those of my world, of my family, losing my mother by a tumor.
Sensitive artists have two choices, someone use pain to create or succumb and are annihilated ...
Everyone knows me like a technician, connoisseur of technology and tools of creation, but I was born and live as an artist, a creator of emotions ... I have always drawn, illustrated, portraits, images of fantasy with pastels, watercolors, tempera, airbrush up to clay sculpture, to move on to living and moving forms with more or less advanced tech, writer, photographer, filmmaker, animator, and so on and so forth.
My mother was a midwife, but many people have in their homes the oil paintings she made during the long nights.
My mother helped women in the most difficult and complex moment of their life, becoming mothers, and at the same time she used her free time to create abstract or figurative paintings, art was a way for her to release tensions and emotions.
My parents passed on so many values, so many passions, they allowed us to transform a passion into a life's work, me in images and movie, my sister into something much more important, she saves lives, she is an emergency doctor.
For all they have done for us, we have a duty to carry on, hold on, and remember them, past the pain, proud of our achievements, they have always helped us grow and become adults.
I know that now she is with our father, who knew how to illuminate people's lives with his smile, they are happy that they look at us from up there and guide the path of their grandchildren Riccardo and Ginevra with their invisible hand.
We will always make you proud of us.
