le mie ferite

Suffering a heart, a canvas torn and stitched. pain, anger and hope of rebirth.
In this painting I would say that is the picture portrayed me, making me that I was carried away his brushes instead of the spatula, which made me throw the colors directly on the canvas taken in by a desperate need to vent a scream held inside myself for too long. A ritual gesture rather than a picture, paint the canvas, cut open with a penknife and then sew it back with staples. Certainly the picture more "different" from all those I have done, where I had no intention of leaving no message of hope, but then the love for life (in that time forgot) has taken over ... And it is there where the tip of the heart should join and that I left open, that my hope in sight: the red blood is fading to pink and then white, then blend with the light that surrounds him ...