TREE BRANCHES CONSUMED BY BAD WEATHER, FOUND ON THE SEA SHORE, POLISHED STONES, CORRODED FROM WATER AND BY FRICTION WITH OTHER STONES, BLADES OF GRASS THAT CREATE PLOTS AND LINK THEM SELVES TO THE TEXTS OF EMILY DICKINSON, MY INSPIRATIONAL POET.

THE IRONIC LOOK OF EMILY DICKINSON HAS MET WITH MY THOUGHT. HER POEMS HAVE BECOME MY FORMS. WORDS HAVE BECOME, AT TIMES, WHITE SHELLS. THE DEAD WOOD, PULSING VEINS WITH BLOOD THAT BEATS AT THE EXTREMITIES.

WORDS ACCEPTED AND ABSORBED BY PAINTED PAPERS, ETCHED, WRINKLED AND THEN STRETCHED AND ABANDONED IN THE WATER OR FORGOTTEN IN THE SUN. VERSES THAT FOUND SUPPORT IN DRIED FLOWERS AND IN SNAPPY STRIPS OF CORRODED METALS...

FACES, ALMOST ALWAYS THE SAME ONES, HAVE BECOME ACTORS IN THE SAME ROLE:

THE SEVERED HEAD OF JOHN THE BAPTIST, WITH HIS IRONIC FACIAL EXPRESSION, DETACHED ORA SLEEP, NEVER SUFFERING.

CROWNS, RUFFS AND CONCAVE DISHES ARE USED AS SUPPORT, PILLOW OR LAP FOR HIS HEAD. MOUTH SARE TELLING US THOUGHTS, THEY EVOKE SONGS, DESTINY, WISHES...

EVERY WORK IS ACCOMPANIED BY A WRITTEN TEXT OR POEMS’ EXTRACTS.