…Ho bisogno di sentimenti / di parole / di parole scelte sapientemente / di fiori detti pensieri / di rose dette presenze / di sogni che abitino gli alberi / di canzoni che facciano danzare le statue / di stelle che mormorino all’orecchio degli amanti… / Ho bisogno di poesia/questa magia che brucia la pesantezza delle parole/ che risveglia le emozioni di colori nuovi.

Alda Merini

There are poets who have accompanied our artistic and human journey ‘to them we owe a great gratitude, have fed us, cared for, well said. Poets are our guardian angels, they rename the world for us, they use words that stimulate us to open our eyes to reality, to become aware of the depth of the human condition and our common destiny. “Man lives poetically on this earth,” says Holderin. This challenge, in this era, we like: to restore the greatness of a poet who speaks of our greatness.

On research:
We started with a question:

What if poetry became small / light /
enough to be in one hand /
to be offered to the eye?

We took some poems, picked them out by color, smell, love, sweat, pain. We held them close to hear them beat and breathe. We imagined an empty space like our amazement at the things of the world’ and we freed them to see where they were going to pose. At first they weren’t touched but in time they came to the garden of hands. That’s when we heard that sound, and in that sound was us and the world.

And if it was faint, one wonders what poetry, of how it sticks to things, of how it becomes air, blood, earth.
We laugh, we are moved, we are moved’ we are amazed, we sense stories of other men, so similar to us that they fall in love.
The dance dreams around us, translates, walks the words.
Carlo Schiavon’s drawings and sculptures do everything not to bother us too much and ask in return only not to be forgotten.

The music is there but you can’t see it.

Teaser