When I draw, I completely forget the rest of the world; there’s a connection between me and the pencil, and that’s all I need.
I always designed houses through my drawings. So, my mom asked a friend/ teacher, what was the reason for my persistent obstinacy? She smiled and replied that I was drawing my nest. In my head I have always furnished houses; I’ve actually been doing this for a while.
I love to have old things that I collect around me. Most of them come from my family and
friends and make me feel they are by my side when I need them.
I work in a room large enough to hold the “things” that have been important in my life. In my magical place, there are nails planted everywhere, hieroglyphics written on flying tickets, words that I need to repeat to myself annotated directly on the wall, involuntary splashes of color, and a quantity of other things that, for some reason, seemed necessary to be hanging right there. This place contains many important elements of my life that I need to keep close and is full of objects that represent my small collections, the fixations that are part of me, my transversal world. I work here, between brushes, canvases, old papers, old books to smell, objects that will tell me what they want to become. And my little bisque dolls, Victorian dolls sometimes only partially recovered, which become small works of art — souls that I apparently meet by chance but always have some story to tell.
I grew up halfway between the rustic essence of the countryside and the elegance of the rooms of my godfather’s residence, a nineteenth-century building that nourished my childhood fantasy, making me immediately appreciate beauty in all its forms. Unfortunately, my aptitude for artistic studies was not shared by my family; a “good job” involved financial studies, and this limited my attitudes very much. But it did not suffocate them. However much I suffered not being able to fully realize immediately, something stronger and deeper led me to look for a way that could give voice to the expression of my thoughts and emotions through all kinds of artistic experimentation.
I am a visionary. Things appear to me as they will become, I “see” them beyond the imagination in a completely real way. This is a gift that I have always had, which makes me believe in what I want to achieve and makes the journey much easier. This is how totally insignificant objects are transformed into unique and unconventional furnishings that I imagined as soon as my gaze landed on them.
I create objects of art and furniture that go beyond the classic commercial genre. I am a collector of stories that I tell through “things”, but they are never just “things.”
I need dark (or shadow) to express my light. People are often scared by dark, but there wouldn’t be light without it. No white without black. And dark is a good place to meditate and take time to stay with yourself.
In the shadow you can hide and protect yourself.Research is the most exciting and truest part of my job, when through the antique dealers I feel the same emotion as a little girl under the tree on Christmas morning. I am sure that nothing which passes between my hands comes by chance. Things call those who know how to feel them, and in everything that escapes modern life, I feel the elapsed time. Every object I find seems to tell me what it wants to become, and I am only the means for their life—to renew them and make the elements of their great personality.
The choice to have a laboratory at home was voluntary. Here I have everything I need, including two guardian angels with wet noses and wagging tails that never leave me alone. As every artist alternates between moments of deep restlessness and great energy, I don’t have a precise work schedule. I can’t stand being tied to the passage of time, and usually the inspirations come in the strangest moments. It can happen that you wake me up in the middle of night with what for me becomes an idea to be realized immediately, or that for a week you try to find inspiration and this does not come, and then create any type of object in a continuous rhythm three days in a row.
My house was designed with an open space that connects the room to the kitchen opening up to the garden. Although I have a room dedicated to my experiments, in reality I often bring everything I need there, and I end up working, cooking, and making a thousand other things, scolding myself for the confusion I create. This my “non-method;” however, it allows me to devote as much time as possible to the family. We are lucky enough to live in a countryside area very close to the sea. We love to take walks in the woods and on the beach and take care of the garden, but above all, we always have a little time to spend together.
Writing is undoubtedly one of my primary urgencies. A few years ago, I published a short collection of thoughts entitled “Simple Things,” and one of the projects that I would like to accomplish is to complete it, telling life’s story through words. I also have in my heart the dream of seeing the building where I grew up lived in once again. I would like to make it a meeting place for artists, poets — souls in search of beauty. This is my corner of the world, and I would be happy to welcome those who want to share beauty with me!
I always repeat to myself not to be afraid, to be as I am, and to believe in my dreams. I know I am “different”, sometimes strange and I am very sensitive, but those are my force points and if someone doesn’t like them, it’s ok, I don’t need to change, or change them.
When I draw, I completely forget the rest of the world; there’s a connection between me and the pencil, and that’s all I need.
I always designed houses through my drawings. So, my mom asked a friend/ teacher, what was the reason for my persistent obstinacy? She smiled and replied that I was drawing my nest. In my head I have always furnished houses; I’ve actually been doing this for a while.
I love to have old things that I collect around me. Most of them come from my family and
friends and make me feel they are by my side when I need them.
I work in a room large enough to hold the “things” that have been important in my life. In my magical place, there are nails planted everywhere, hieroglyphics written on flying tickets, words that I need to repeat to myself annotated directly on the wall, involuntary splashes of color, and a quantity of other things that, for some reason, seemed necessary to be hanging right there. This place contains many important elements of my life that I need to keep close and is full of objects that represent my small collections, the fixations that are part of me, my transversal world. I work here, between brushes, canvases, old papers, old books to smell, objects that will tell me what they want to become. And my little bisque dolls, Victorian dolls sometimes only partially recovered, which become small works of art — souls that I apparently meet by chance but always have some story to tell.
I grew up halfway between the rustic essence of the countryside and the elegance of the rooms of my godfather’s residence, a nineteenth-century building that nourished my childhood fantasy, making me immediately appreciate beauty in all its forms. Unfortunately, my aptitude for artistic studies was not shared by my family; a “good job” involved financial studies, and this limited my attitudes very much. But it did not suffocate them. However much I suffered not being able to fully realize immediately, something stronger and deeper led me to look for a way that could give voice to the expression of my thoughts and emotions through all kinds of artistic experimentation.
I am a visionary. Things appear to me as they will become, I “see” them beyond the imagination in a completely real way. This is a gift that I have always had, which makes me believe in what I want to achieve and makes the journey much easier. This is how totally insignificant objects are transformed into unique and unconventional furnishings that I imagined as soon as my gaze landed on them.
I create objects of art and furniture that go beyond the classic commercial genre. I am a collector of stories that I tell through “things”, but they are never just “things.”
I need dark (or shadow) to express my light. People are often scared by dark, but there wouldn’t be light without it. No white without black. And dark is a good place to meditate and take time to stay with yourself.
In the shadow you can hide and protect yourself.Research is the most exciting and truest part of my job, when through the antique dealers I feel the same emotion as a little girl under the tree on Christmas morning. I am sure that nothing which passes between my hands comes by chance. Things call those who know how to feel them, and in everything that escapes modern life, I feel the elapsed time. Every object I find seems to tell me what it wants to become, and I am only the means for their life—to renew them and make the elements of their great personality.
The choice to have a laboratory at home was voluntary. Here I have everything I need, including two guardian angels with wet noses and wagging tails that never leave me alone. As every artist alternates between moments of deep restlessness and great energy, I don’t have a precise work schedule. I can’t stand being tied to the passage of time, and usually the inspirations come in the strangest moments. It can happen that you wake me up in the middle of night with what for me becomes an idea to be realized immediately, or that for a week you try to find inspiration and this does not come, and then create any type of object in a continuous rhythm three days in a row.
My house was designed with an open space that connects the room to the kitchen opening up to the garden. Although I have a room dedicated to my experiments, in reality I often bring everything I need there, and I end up working, cooking, and making a thousand other things, scolding myself for the confusion I create. This my “non-method;” however, it allows me to devote as much time as possible to the family. We are lucky enough to live in a countryside area very close to the sea. We love to take walks in the woods and on the beach and take care of the garden, but above all, we always have a little time to spend together.
Writing is undoubtedly one of my primary urgencies. A few years ago, I published a short collection of thoughts entitled “Simple Things,” and one of the projects that I would like to accomplish is to complete it, telling life’s story through words. I also have in my heart the dream of seeing the building where I grew up lived in once again. I would like to make it a meeting place for artists, poets — souls in search of beauty. This is my corner of the world, and I would be happy to welcome those who want to share beauty with me!
I always repeat to myself not to be afraid, to be as I am, and to believe in my dreams. I know I am “different”, sometimes strange and I am very sensitive, but those are my force points and if someone doesn’t like them, it’s ok, I don’t need to change, or change them.
Related Stories
When I draw, I completely forget the rest of the world; there’s a connection between me and the pencil, and that’s all I need.
I always designed houses through my drawings. So, my mom asked a friend/ teacher, what was the reason for my persistent obstinacy? She smiled and replied that I was drawing my nest. In my head I have always furnished houses; I’ve actually been doing this for a while.
I love to have old things that I collect around me. Most of them come from my family and
friends and make me feel they are by my side when I need them.
I work in a room large enough to hold the “things” that have been important in my life. In my magical place, there are nails planted everywhere, hieroglyphics written on flying tickets, words that I need to repeat to myself annotated directly on the wall, involuntary splashes of color, and a quantity of other things that, for some reason, seemed necessary to be hanging right there. This place contains many important elements of my life that I need to keep close and is full of objects that represent my small collections, the fixations that are part of me, my transversal world. I work here, between brushes, canvases, old papers, old books to smell, objects that will tell me what they want to become. And my little bisque dolls, Victorian dolls sometimes only partially recovered, which become small works of art — souls that I apparently meet by chance but always have some story to tell.
I grew up halfway between the rustic essence of the countryside and the elegance of the rooms of my godfather’s residence, a nineteenth-century building that nourished my childhood fantasy, making me immediately appreciate beauty in all its forms. Unfortunately, my aptitude for artistic studies was not shared by my family; a “good job” involved financial studies, and this limited my attitudes very much. But it did not suffocate them. However much I suffered not being able to fully realize immediately, something stronger and deeper led me to look for a way that could give voice to the expression of my thoughts and emotions through all kinds of artistic experimentation.
I am a visionary. Things appear to me as they will become, I “see” them beyond the imagination in a completely real way. This is a gift that I have always had, which makes me believe in what I want to achieve and makes the journey much easier. This is how totally insignificant objects are transformed into unique and unconventional furnishings that I imagined as soon as my gaze landed on them.
I create objects of art and furniture that go beyond the classic commercial genre. I am a collector of stories that I tell through “things”, but they are never just “things.”
I need dark (or shadow) to express my light. People are often scared by dark, but there wouldn’t be light without it. No white without black. And dark is a good place to meditate and take time to stay with yourself.
In the shadow you can hide and protect yourself.Research is the most exciting and truest part of my job, when through the antique dealers I feel the same emotion as a little girl under the tree on Christmas morning. I am sure that nothing which passes between my hands comes by chance. Things call those who know how to feel them, and in everything that escapes modern life, I feel the elapsed time. Every object I find seems to tell me what it wants to become, and I am only the means for their life—to renew them and make the elements of their great personality.
The choice to have a laboratory at home was voluntary. Here I have everything I need, including two guardian angels with wet noses and wagging tails that never leave me alone. As every artist alternates between moments of deep restlessness and great energy, I don’t have a precise work schedule. I can’t stand being tied to the passage of time, and usually the inspirations come in the strangest moments. It can happen that you wake me up in the middle of night with what for me becomes an idea to be realized immediately, or that for a week you try to find inspiration and this does not come, and then create any type of object in a continuous rhythm three days in a row.
My house was designed with an open space that connects the room to the kitchen opening up to the garden. Although I have a room dedicated to my experiments, in reality I often bring everything I need there, and I end up working, cooking, and making a thousand other things, scolding myself for the confusion I create. This my “non-method;” however, it allows me to devote as much time as possible to the family. We are lucky enough to live in a countryside area very close to the sea. We love to take walks in the woods and on the beach and take care of the garden, but above all, we always have a little time to spend together.
Writing is undoubtedly one of my primary urgencies. A few years ago, I published a short collection of thoughts entitled “Simple Things,” and one of the projects that I would like to accomplish is to complete it, telling life’s story through words. I also have in my heart the dream of seeing the building where I grew up lived in once again. I would like to make it a meeting place for artists, poets — souls in search of beauty. This is my corner of the world, and I would be happy to welcome those who want to share beauty with me!
I always repeat to myself not to be afraid, to be as I am, and to believe in my dreams. I know I am “different”, sometimes strange and I am very sensitive, but those are my force points and if someone doesn’t like them, it’s ok, I don’t need to change, or change them.
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