My work draws on my life experiences, from growing up in a small industrial village in Italy, spending most of my time in my mother’s upholstery workshop surrounded by materials which now are components of my work.
I channelled these experiences in a four years degree in Fine Art and later with a second degree in literature which contributed to create a solid background in history, visual art, literature, history of art.
Felt, wool and stitches and later intricate lines of drawings are the foundations of my practice.
The themes of my work focus on loss, memory, silence, bodily image and identity…
My practice often knots together the elements of a conversation which is meaningful in its ability to shape the different parts of a project through repetitive and relentless actions (drawing, knitting, sewing).
Having spent a few years in psychotherapy verbalising anxiety, trauma, self-harming and emotions through a language which is unfamiliar (I’m originally from Italy), I am also bringing some therapy issues into my art practice – loss, settling in a new country, rejection of my native cultural identity – in an attempt to slowly rebuilt/recreate what it’s been carefully deconstructed during the sessions.
The work is often affected by loss and a consequent sense of unreliability in a desperate effort to stitch together the fragile fabric of my own understanding of unity. In this perspective, personal history and memory are playing an important role when I’m exploring the potential of my visual syntax, always aware of its substantial inability to provide a solution to a deep sense of imminent loss.
In this constant attempt to re-construct a brand new or diverse self, history and memory clash together, establishing a new ground over which new meanings take place.
If the memory is an object verbalised in this very moment, the interactions between the past, the present and the future expectations are melting together in an attempt to reconcile our emotional fabric. But memory it’s unreliable and it flicks from side to side letting us believe what we saw and felt once will remain the same forever.
However, history is not a word engraved in stone but a moving object always in need of being brought to the surface in order to be rejoined, reconnected with the complexity of knowledge, and only in this circumstance history will be a living body.
Growing in an environment where problems were resolved through practical actions and never with words or compassion, I learned how to deal with silence and gradually played my answers away through the making of objects which is still today part of my practice.”
Studio: Bow Arts, Bow Road, London e3.