9th of October 2017: my hands haven’t been touched by blood but as soon as I open my eyes I see them as bloodstained. I get up from the restful sleep of the night after the event and hurry to the mirror, I see my clean reflection: my skin is clear from my neck to […]


I will start a new line at the end of the Biennale when I will find out the tenth chapter and I will plant a pure rose in the Garden of the Virgins.


18,78 minuti circa. 6,26 il tempo di ogni azione. 3 le azioni prima di ricominciare.
Dall’inizio: 3 azioni, 3 persone, 3 ricordi e poi tutto riparte e si ripete. Al centro del laboratorio scientifico condiviso con altre tre figure, la Sfera: la macchina del ricordo che è momento, è memoria e diventa monumento. Cuore effimero e intangibile malgrado la fisica presenza dell’opera interattiva rivestita di Alcantara ® dentro e fuori poiché incentrato sul tuo ricordo. Ricordi? Te lo ripeto più volte per convincerti che sei già stato qua.


In Art, synonym of purification is catharsis. Blood. The staging of a tragic representation in Ancient Greece involved the whole polis in a common moment of purification. Tears. Through feelings of pity and terror. Sweat. Art makes you stink, it bothers, it melts groins and intestines, it speaks from the stomach, the throat and the lower bellies. Art is scary. The Sublime and the Beautiful are concepts clearly distinct. Let’s get free. Freedom. Let’s follow our instincts, let’s give credibility to the subconscious. Let’s eliminate the costume that does not exist. Let’s read more and not the labels.

Yes. When I visited the exhibition that Palazzo Reale dedicated to Keith Haring I sweated. A lot. A sweat, for the accuracy, composed of water, ions (Na +, K +, Cl-), urea, immunoglobulins, cholesterol, lactic acid, volatile bases, acrylic, oil on canvas, images, masks, vinyl paint…


86.400 are the seconds of a day. It’s the time that I have given to me to get to, to synthesize and to separate me again from “Figurative geometry” of Maramotti Collection.


Jean Arp, I look into your eyes.


If the “world” remains the constant, what does its “end” mean?

If I have to talk about the Museo Pecci and its first-new exhibition, entitled “The End of the World”, I prefer the word “rebirth” to “death”, to “exhibition” I prefer the word “overview” on today’s world.


“Dissident Artist”: Ai Weiwei is not free from definition.

But today who is free among of us ?

I have visited the retrospective that the Fondazione Palazzo Strozzi dedicates to Ai Weiwei, and I have found my definition of freedom…


This is the modern fairy tale that today I want to tell you.


I deleted at least thirteen times the end of this text, and then I decided to end it this way. I hope that the master will forgive me for this … But I am sure he will understand.