Goodbye Home_4 Painting

I plan to paint in some kind of traditional Italian way, but I often end up doing other things. Collage results in a way to postpone the question “about me” and to receive help from the outside, from a patch, from a piece, like a letter to someone, a phrase out of a casual conversation... I like being in the middle of something created for other reasons, letting it change the priorities of my thoughts; to begin without the labor of birth, just the chaos of living, all in a sudden; to be a free witness of the living, of the absence of the void. I remember a blue sky one evening, so bold, so brimful. It overturned every perception of where I was, if in the full or in the need; both sides, both the cityscape and the sky were filled and willing to be the subject, they pushed on the border. Drawing and painting from life, I experience a similar confusion, lights and colors pulsate in accumulation nodes and vectors, contaminating each other, intercepting figures, not only as shaded signs and smears, but ambitions of a form and of the space around them, that add up in a huge amount of unstable data. So, I wonder if seeing means choosing, protecting oneself from reality, from the harshness of density, from those encounters of divergent wills, and inventing simplified forms as a maternal language. Many artists and people have influenced me, but I would like to remember here the work of Georges Rousse and Felix Gonzalez-Torres. Rousse for having affirmed an organized bidimensional shape out of chaos, as a sum of interventions and paint on ruins, spread three-dimensionally in abandoned architectures, physical memories of places that have lost their function. A simple geometric form appears from a single point of view. I think he explored the opposite direction of fragmentation and of relativism. Gonzalez-Torres for having imagined a way for sculptures, similar to variable installations, that does not need a rigid and fixed form, but could be flexible and repositionable as an electrical cord of light bulbs; or inconsistent yet defined as an accumulation of candies, which could be move away in pieces, maintaining the imprinting of the pile, the pyramidal iconography of a holy motherhood, and could be eaten like a host, to share the holiness or the decay of a body, condensed by time, evoking an original innocence and health.