I live on stories. Experienced or invented, imaginary and imagined. On stories to tell and stories to listen to. There are stories about possible projects and stories about shared memories and unforgettable adventures. There are stories that you tell hoping that by telling you will be able to forget. There are stories that help you understand what you think, where you stand and where you are going. And there are stories that are supposed to explain but instead create more confusion. Telling stories is a way to make the daily life special, to give value to small things, to focus the attention on details that otherwise would risk to be overlooked. I share the passion for stories with a love from the past and some friends from the present. The last few months brought in my life the encounter with photographers and journalists. The common interest for telling stories and living the stories we are telling brought us close and allowed us to share deep experiences. It is about curiosity, adrenaline, the sense of limit, the challenge of the unknown. And you collect details, you seek for the right word that could communicate smells and sensations of otherwise remote places. And then over a glass of wine you discuss about choices, directions taken, doubts about the present and adventures for the future.
To read more of her writings visit:
http://www.veleno.tv/bollettini/?lang=en
Sunday, 6 June 2010
Sunday, 21 February 2010
Native American Ten Commandments
1. Treat the Earth and all that dwell therein with respect
2. Remain close to the Great Spirit
3. Show great respect for your fellow beings
4. Work together for the benefit of all Mankind
5. Give assistance and kindness wherever needed
6. Do what you know to be right
7. Look after the well-being of Mind and Body
8. Dedicate a share of your efforts to the greater Good
9. Be truthful and honest at all times
10. Take full responsibility for your actions
http://www.legendsofamerica.com/NA-Proverbs2.html
2. Remain close to the Great Spirit
3. Show great respect for your fellow beings
4. Work together for the benefit of all Mankind
5. Give assistance and kindness wherever needed
6. Do what you know to be right
7. Look after the well-being of Mind and Body
8. Dedicate a share of your efforts to the greater Good
9. Be truthful and honest at all times
10. Take full responsibility for your actions
http://www.legendsofamerica.com/NA-Proverbs2.html
Saturday, 20 February 2010
myself in relationship with dance (1984 at present)
Dance has been my companion since I was a child. My journey in the dance world started when I was five studying ballet. Since then I haven’t spent a day without spinning around, lifting a leg or rolling on the ground. I have been trained as a ballet dancer, wore tutu’ and point shoes for many years and then decided to shift my research in movement toward contemporary dance and improvisation. My professional life keeps shifting from performing, making my own work, teaching and researching in academic contexts. I see life and art intermingling in a constant dialogue of negotiations, choices, questions and discoveries. The starting point of my inquiries is the living body felt from within and its relation to the space that surrounds it. Movement in all its manifestations fascinates me. I think of movement and dance as tools to understand more of who I am, to find orientation and learn more about the way I relate to others. At the moment the main focus in my dance practice is in finding joy, pleasure and ease in movement. I believe in the importance of playing seriously in all occasions that art and life present.
Lewes – beginning of February
I have been given the privilege to be with a friend in the 40th week of her pregnancy. I am here - in Lewes - with her and her family in the transition phase between pregnancy and a life coming into the world. It is fantastic to be in such a small village, waking up with the sound of birds after being in London, exposed to high level of noises and an incredible amount of stimulation. Little seems to happen here. Small and meaningful activities that fill in the day until the evening comes. (Having breakfast, providing food and cooking it, spending time sitting in front of the fire while talking and thinking out loud in company, visiting the farmer's market, planting raspberries plants, observing someone's painting and listening to the story behind it, meeting new people who immediately feel familiar, inflating the birthing pool, preparing the space in which Hester will give birth, rubbing a big round belly.) Hester’s family gathers around a table every night for supper, discussing about the day and asking each other questions of all sorts.
While reading the book “Spiritual Midwifery” by Ina May Gaskin I came across this sentence: 'When a child is born, the entire Universe has to shift and make room'. Knowing that thousand of babies come into this world each minute I have started to think about space and how much of it I occupy.
I am sitting on the floor in my room, my legs long, my sitting-bones touching the ground, my upper back is supported by the side of the bed, the light is low and soft, a candle is on, the air is cool and I can hear the sound of the heater working.
Each person inhabits a certain amount of space, each daily activity requires a particular relation to space. Traveling takes the self on a journey of exposure to different climates, colors and to all sorts of interactions with people. The body constantly shifts in order to adjust to the new situation. In the last 2 years I have been traveling a lot – escaping at times or searching for stimuli and inputs in order to feel alive. I know I can understand myself more fully only when I step out of my routine and notice what my reactions are in relation to the situations I am exposed to.
Being in an open swimming pool outside Mumbai in water fully dressed drinking beer with a man clearly interested in me. Being in a dance space really open to sexuality in all its manifestations, being in Rome with a friend I have known for 16 years, then in Florence dancing in the main squares surrounded by statues made 600 years ago. And then finding myself in a Spa in Germany with my ears under water listening to Indian music, or being in a sauna at 90 degrees with 20 people naked sharing a funny ritual to get as much heat as possible from a man weaving a towel. And in London playing cards with two friends one of whom will leave the city and move back to Italy the following morning, being in the air between two cities realizing that a very expensive present was left behind lost for ever, being in my parents’ place in the country side in the centre of Italy under an amazing sky full of stars and a bit of snow left on the ground, walking and smoking with my sister to orient, arrive and feel the earth while walking, standing on a pavement with my ex partner freezing and wondering how to finally depart from each other, walking in the snow in Berlin with a group of new friends, having a soup in a Turkish restaurant talking about goodbyes. So many memories, each one connected to a place I have inhabited even for a very short time.
Do we leave traces? Can I live into this planet enjoying its beauty without consuming it? Can I consciously make space for newborn babies to be welcome into this world?
I wonder how awareness for what is present can enhance my ability to be in the world, fully attentive while contributing to a world of peace and respect towards others and myself.
Yesterday evening talking with Hester in front of the fire I was telling her about my difficulty to deal with lots of stimuli at the same time. Funny I just said I am purposefully doing it – is it because I enjoy challenge? Or is it because even our bones grow through experiencing and responding to resistance? It still is a matter of space! Something coming towards us can define our ability to deal with distances and make us understand how much space we actually need to live a healthy and joyous life. I am talking about the pleasure to exist. Inhabit our own dimension and being as tall as we actually are.
While reading the book “Spiritual Midwifery” by Ina May Gaskin I came across this sentence: 'When a child is born, the entire Universe has to shift and make room'. Knowing that thousand of babies come into this world each minute I have started to think about space and how much of it I occupy.
I am sitting on the floor in my room, my legs long, my sitting-bones touching the ground, my upper back is supported by the side of the bed, the light is low and soft, a candle is on, the air is cool and I can hear the sound of the heater working.
Each person inhabits a certain amount of space, each daily activity requires a particular relation to space. Traveling takes the self on a journey of exposure to different climates, colors and to all sorts of interactions with people. The body constantly shifts in order to adjust to the new situation. In the last 2 years I have been traveling a lot – escaping at times or searching for stimuli and inputs in order to feel alive. I know I can understand myself more fully only when I step out of my routine and notice what my reactions are in relation to the situations I am exposed to.
Being in an open swimming pool outside Mumbai in water fully dressed drinking beer with a man clearly interested in me. Being in a dance space really open to sexuality in all its manifestations, being in Rome with a friend I have known for 16 years, then in Florence dancing in the main squares surrounded by statues made 600 years ago. And then finding myself in a Spa in Germany with my ears under water listening to Indian music, or being in a sauna at 90 degrees with 20 people naked sharing a funny ritual to get as much heat as possible from a man weaving a towel. And in London playing cards with two friends one of whom will leave the city and move back to Italy the following morning, being in the air between two cities realizing that a very expensive present was left behind lost for ever, being in my parents’ place in the country side in the centre of Italy under an amazing sky full of stars and a bit of snow left on the ground, walking and smoking with my sister to orient, arrive and feel the earth while walking, standing on a pavement with my ex partner freezing and wondering how to finally depart from each other, walking in the snow in Berlin with a group of new friends, having a soup in a Turkish restaurant talking about goodbyes. So many memories, each one connected to a place I have inhabited even for a very short time.
Do we leave traces? Can I live into this planet enjoying its beauty without consuming it? Can I consciously make space for newborn babies to be welcome into this world?
I wonder how awareness for what is present can enhance my ability to be in the world, fully attentive while contributing to a world of peace and respect towards others and myself.
Yesterday evening talking with Hester in front of the fire I was telling her about my difficulty to deal with lots of stimuli at the same time. Funny I just said I am purposefully doing it – is it because I enjoy challenge? Or is it because even our bones grow through experiencing and responding to resistance? It still is a matter of space! Something coming towards us can define our ability to deal with distances and make us understand how much space we actually need to live a healthy and joyous life. I am talking about the pleasure to exist. Inhabit our own dimension and being as tall as we actually are.
Wednesday, 9 September 2009
tight skin
Feeling the skin too tight
Expanding within it
Stretching arms and legs,
fingers and toes
in search for wider gloves and socks to inhabit
(photo by Rachel Cherry)
Expanding within it
Stretching arms and legs,
fingers and toes
in search for wider gloves and socks to inhabit
(photo by Rachel Cherry)
Childhood and Land
I grew up in a land surrounded by mountains, walking with bear feet on the soil which once was the bed of a lake.
I grew up knowing that my home was named as the trees that surrounds it.
I grew up counting the days in order to pick up red and juicy cherries.
I grew up tasting the soil and playing with grass.
I grew up knowing that butterflies have complex Latin names that I could never remember.
I grew up trying to distinguish the mushrooms that can be eaten to the once that could be lethal.
I grew up collecting stones imagining they were eggs and pieces of wood as pieces of bread.
I grew up waiting for a falling star to make a wish.
I grew up observing ants being busy transporting crumbles.
I grew up sensing the change of temperature between day and night.
I grew up throwing mandarin skin in the fire and linger until its smell would come back to me.
I grew up sliding down a snowy hill.
I grew up spreading my arm and transforming in a tree.
I grew up searching for eagles between the clouds.
I grew up stealing sweet corn in August and grape in October from my neighbour.
I grew up walking towards the red fountain to collect drinkable water.
I grew up falling asleep on a hummock hanging from two strong pine trunks.
I grew up dreaming that spiders would cover me and my skin would become black.
I grew up shaking tall grass with a wooden stick to make vipers escape.
I grew up learning how to catch a snake.
I grew up watering plants as soon as the sun would come down.
I grew up fearing the trembling of the plates that make the crust of planet earth.
I grew up listening to my dad’s stories of skiing under the full moon.
I grew up travelling and experiencing the flavours, the temperature, the colours of different lands.
I grew up acknowledging that I do not own my land, but I am just passing by it.
I grew up reflecting that ants are smaller than me and that I am smaller than a tree.
I grew up searching for the direction of the wind so that a boomerang could come back to me.
I grew up riding a horse with the sunrise, a dry field of wheat and wet sand as companions.
I grew up collecting rubbish under water, on the top of a mountain, on a vast grass field.
I grew up being with the land, on the land, changing at its pace, speaking its idiom and constantly being surprised by it.
I grew up knowing that my home was named as the trees that surrounds it.
I grew up counting the days in order to pick up red and juicy cherries.
I grew up tasting the soil and playing with grass.
I grew up knowing that butterflies have complex Latin names that I could never remember.
I grew up trying to distinguish the mushrooms that can be eaten to the once that could be lethal.
I grew up collecting stones imagining they were eggs and pieces of wood as pieces of bread.
I grew up waiting for a falling star to make a wish.
I grew up observing ants being busy transporting crumbles.
I grew up sensing the change of temperature between day and night.
I grew up throwing mandarin skin in the fire and linger until its smell would come back to me.
I grew up sliding down a snowy hill.
I grew up spreading my arm and transforming in a tree.
I grew up searching for eagles between the clouds.
I grew up stealing sweet corn in August and grape in October from my neighbour.
I grew up walking towards the red fountain to collect drinkable water.
I grew up falling asleep on a hummock hanging from two strong pine trunks.
I grew up dreaming that spiders would cover me and my skin would become black.
I grew up shaking tall grass with a wooden stick to make vipers escape.
I grew up learning how to catch a snake.
I grew up watering plants as soon as the sun would come down.
I grew up fearing the trembling of the plates that make the crust of planet earth.
I grew up listening to my dad’s stories of skiing under the full moon.
I grew up travelling and experiencing the flavours, the temperature, the colours of different lands.
I grew up acknowledging that I do not own my land, but I am just passing by it.
I grew up reflecting that ants are smaller than me and that I am smaller than a tree.
I grew up searching for the direction of the wind so that a boomerang could come back to me.
I grew up riding a horse with the sunrise, a dry field of wheat and wet sand as companions.
I grew up collecting rubbish under water, on the top of a mountain, on a vast grass field.
I grew up being with the land, on the land, changing at its pace, speaking its idiom and constantly being surprised by it.
Monday, 7 September 2009
If my body is my home 02-06-2009
if my body is my home
my skin is a tent
a protecting shelter
it repairs me from rain and wind
it gives me shelter so I can rest and sleep
I go out and
look at the cloudy sky
I go out and
look at the stars
I can stay in or go out
I can stay or leave
I am lying and resting in my tent
I am silent
trying to perceive the mass of my body
to rest the weight of my shelter
on the supporting and
unpredictable surface of the Earth
my skin is a tent
a protecting shelter
it repairs me from rain and wind
it gives me shelter so I can rest and sleep
I go out and
look at the cloudy sky
I go out and
look at the stars
I can stay in or go out
I can stay or leave
I am lying and resting in my tent
I am silent
trying to perceive the mass of my body
to rest the weight of my shelter
on the supporting and
unpredictable surface of the Earth
Thursday, 27 August 2009
On Touch
Each touch speaks of the infinite.
A point is touched and millions of cells are acknowledged.
A pause to feel what can be felt.
A point is touched and millions of cells are acknowledged.
A pause to feel what can be felt.
Friday, 15 May 2009
travelling
When I travel I can feel my skin expanding, reaching beyond identity, roles and expectations.
My permeable container diffuses and melts with the air around it. The sense of self dissolves and becomes one with the environment.
in Italy - in April
a week spent in the country side
every morning I would go and press a button that would activate a mechanism to collect water in a tank
I needed to wait for 10 or 15 minutes and then switch it off
I would use that time to walk around trees and observe
every single day I had a surprise waiting for me
I decided not to bring the small digital camera with me
I was curious to see what would be left printed in my memory
a leaf falling apart, a selvatic orchid, a protuberance of a branch, a mushroom
I had to make peace with the Earth
my legs were still shaking after the earthquake in L'Aquila
my breath was up up up towards the throat
my spatial reference, my sense of ground was shaken
my feet were lightly touching the ground
was I almost touching the Earth?
I love being on the ground sensing the ground with the back of my head, my whole torso, the soles of the feet - but the Earth did not have the solidity that once had in my perception
a month and 9 days have passed and I am just starting to relax towards the Earth again
every morning I would go and press a button that would activate a mechanism to collect water in a tank
I needed to wait for 10 or 15 minutes and then switch it off
I would use that time to walk around trees and observe
every single day I had a surprise waiting for me
I decided not to bring the small digital camera with me
I was curious to see what would be left printed in my memory
a leaf falling apart, a selvatic orchid, a protuberance of a branch, a mushroom
I had to make peace with the Earth
my legs were still shaking after the earthquake in L'Aquila
my breath was up up up towards the throat
my spatial reference, my sense of ground was shaken
my feet were lightly touching the ground
was I almost touching the Earth?
I love being on the ground sensing the ground with the back of my head, my whole torso, the soles of the feet - but the Earth did not have the solidity that once had in my perception
a month and 9 days have passed and I am just starting to relax towards the Earth again
in Utrecht on the 24Apri09
On a Friday windy morning, I took a walk along one of the canals in the centre of Utrecht, NL. It was my first time there, I had a map I did not want to follow. I tried to get lost but I couldn't. I had too many visual references accumulated in 2 days of passing-by without - I thought - paying attention. So much of the environement touches us... much more than I realise. My eyes were drawn to small plants, contorted banches, the reflection of flying birds on dark green water, ants, a spiderweb. I am constantly surprised by the determination of nature and the spirit of adaptation of wilderness around human-made structures of bricks, concrete walls and pavements.beginning
skin:
container
permeability
inner&outer
impression/expression
touch
identity
land:
belonging
displacement
home
location
ground
soil
earth
container
permeability
inner&outer
impression/expression
touch
identity
land:
belonging
displacement
home
location
ground
soil
earth
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