Personal "Lines of Africa"

Personal "Lines of Africa"

manifesto Mellacina

 

Lines of Africa

Irene Gianello

"I was eleven and a half years, it was a strange day, I did not understand what was happening to me. They took me and my family and took us to the port of Tripoli, on the site stood the Arab armed police who orchestrated our exit. We embarked on a ship type cattle car named 'Argentina', it was all so confusing and horrible, we left with the clothes on our backs. And to think that my family was respectable, why so much hatred? we had six or seven workers who were working in our held, we were well and the relationship with employees was good. We also had a mare, Giuliana who had won many awards, then I discovered that Gaddafi's government had taken her too well to our livestock. But the Libyan people was not so, Italians loved because I had brought 'agriculture in a land that was still living herding roads, infrastructure ... but oil was coveted by politicians who then incited the people. I have a sweet memory of my land, I' Arabic was mandatory in schools and even difficult I had learned, first I knew writing and speaking. I was in love then my father was a great philosopher, he sent me the 'I love' art and beautiful things, in his family are all baritones, tenors ... ah the music! What a great thing. The reality in which I lived as a child was so sweet and muffled. Our neighbors were Arabs, with us they had established a relationship of mutual respect and recognition, and that day at the port had come to greet us in tears. What memory of Tripoli? The blinding white of the houses, prickly pears, almond trees, olive trees and the desert in sunset time has many shades, this for me is I 'Africa, the white houses, my city and the speed with which sets the sun leaving you in a pitch dark, but not devoid of content ... HAPPINESS 'in the desert ... is disarming. But I know I was lucky, I had a beautiful childhood, I was so beloved. From Italy, my parents had brought the grandmother who like many grandmothers Romagna was big and a great cook, she was very friendly, if I think of her memory noodles stretched on a wooden table in a house in Tripoli and Christmas dinner for which was of great cappelletti 'as pizza'. After the celebrations left home for his retum to our house, my father took me in his arms and walked down four kilometers walk in the total darkness of the desert. I was afraid of the darkness, but the singing stonatissimo my father in the midst of that immense space and time gave me a sense of extreme tranquility. This is my story, my memories, everything has changed since then, but the feelings that come from the colors, flavors and scents are grafted into us with such arrogance that is directly proportional to the intensity with which you have lived. I1 white always accompanies me because it reminds me of the rooftops of Tripoli, is the color of my life of my soul and that innocence that I lost in Africa in a childhood happy and fortunate. I have not found better means of art to leave imprinted my memories as well as in my mind and the creations that project have a sense of the past. The materials of my sculptures are different, sometimes use the card marble, an amalgam of pure cellulose, powdered marble of Carrara and an original of which I guard jealously the recipe. The paper mache instead was a genuine discovery, has ancient origins and has been widely used over the centuries, especially love for the 'hard work which, by its apparent fragility and versatility of final solutions. I adopt other compounds such as I 'I always use raw clay and leather that I find fascinating, malleable and' docile 'but with a strong character. The stone grated and stone dust have in me a sense of the memory of the desert sand and all that is dusty, far and fabulous, I keep it as a valuable asset and a warning to craftsmanship that is disappearing. I love to use your hands to shape and feel of leather worked wrinkles, uneven surfaces, the wrinkles of the paper and the harshness of the stone. This is me, the colors and my fantasy I entrust the rest "

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Veduta della sala

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Some moments of the opening of 8/11/2014 of my personal "Lines of Africa" at the International Museum of Glass in Abano Terme (PD)

 

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