Coming down the Giogo Pass towards Firenzuola, I had been impressed by the view of the rocks surfacing in the pastures and by the soft fields furrowed by streams and interrupted by the remains of the woods. The waters of the Santerno river engrave the earth, rip pebbles and stones away from the stratifications of the rock walls, and accumulate them in its bed, excavating them just like the workmen of these valleys quarry and then accumulate and organize pietra serena, a bluestone typical to the area. Later they will put it back together, in layers, as they cover walls, overlie the wood of coverings, or sometimes even a coarser metal sheet.
The unusually repeated conspicuousness of these three materials is tied to some thoughts on water and swimming. Bodies in movement, lightness, bodies exposed to the sun, looks. It’s pores dilating, it’s the revelation of plastic physicality, startle and vertigo opposed to a classical principle of a balance between self and nature.
So it’s the order of a classical organism that governs, as well as the disorder and the estrangement of individual desires. The horizontality of water and stone against light and vegetation’s verticality.
The outcome is an assembly of dug out solids, set within an outline whose edges are constantly varied, towards the city or towards the river, just as if the organism had undergone erosions and washings by the waters of the river. (frp)