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"Reflex Revival: The First Shot Back"
This image marks a return to photography through the eye of a real lens. Taken with a phone, it captures the moment I held my Nikon again, with my reflection sealed inside the lens—like a quiet promise to start seeing again. It’s raw, imperfect, but true: the beginning of a new visual story.
What a difference a full day of work make. All the stem stitch bullion knots are laid down and the lucet cords are added, it makes a lovely blue circle.
Enjoy your friday!
((Etna Protocol – Southern Slope, November 2193)
At dawn, the crater reveals its true form.
What the night kept hidden, the light slowly unveils: a mineral amphitheatre, where matter seems to speak through subtle, barely hinted tones.
That red, that ochre—unexpected chromatic nuances emerge like veins across the dark surface.
A contrast that no longer seems to belong to this world, now silent, abandoned by humankind.
The large boulder in the center appears like an ancient heart—foreign, yet inevitably bound to the landscape.
The wind is still, but something breathes beneath our feet.
The feeling that every step we take is being welcomed, recorded, and perhaps remembered, is palpable.
In these visible layers, we read the volcano’s memory—a silent chronicle of events that predate all human civilization.
Nothing moves, and yet everything feels alive, waiting.
Perhaps time itself, here, has paused to listen.
We’ve decided to stay a little longer.
The probe is active and records almost imperceptible frequencies—testimony of a world that, while seemingly motionless, has never ceased to change.
Something tells us that what we came to find is not far now.
Materia che respira – Frammento IV
(Protocollo Etna – Cratere della Cisterna, Novembre 2193)
All'alba, il cratere si mostra nella sua vera forma. Ciò che la notte custodiva, la luce rivela lentamente: un anfiteatro minerale, dove la materia sembra parlare attraverso tinte sottili, appena accennate. Quel rosso, quell’ocra, sfumature cromatiche inattese, emergono come venature sulla superficie scura. Un contrasto che non sembra appartenere a questo mondo ormai silenzioso, abbandonato dagli uomini.
Il grande masso al centro appare come un cuore antico, estraneo eppure inevitabilmente legato al paesaggio. Il vento tace, ma qualcosa respira sotto i nostri piedi. La sensazione che ogni nostro passo venga accolto, registrato e forse ricordato è palpabile.
In queste stratificazioni visibili leggiamo la memoria del vulcano, una cronaca silenziosa di eventi che precedono ogni civiltà umana. Nulla si muove, eppure ogni cosa sembra viva, in attesa. Forse il tempo stesso, qui, si è fermato per ascoltare.
Abbiamo deciso di restare ancora un po'. La sonda è attiva e registra frequenze quasi impercettibili, testimonianza di un mondo che, pur apparendo immobile, non ha mai smesso di mutare.
Qualcosa ci dice che ciò che dovevamo trovare non è lontano.
This is the first time I stitch on painter's linen. I'm happy that stitching on this new surface doesn't create big obstacles, sofar ...
Enjoy your sunday!
The power of mathematics is often to change one thing into another, to change geometry into language.
Ergo, visual poetry.
Page 6 of this series is done. It is the last and most extensive one. All the pages are inspired by the work of Anni Albers.
Slow but surely all the knitted parts get attached and the blue beauty reveals herself.
Enjoy your friday!
Overview of the circles. All are done with one stitch, chain stitch, but each time laid down differently.
What binds us together?
Our shared memories, a chain of events that entangled us, the feeling of being made of the same cloth, the paths we travel which seem to go in the same direction or simply the recognition of another heartbeat?
I illustrated this beautiful poem by Pablo Neruda on my Moleskine 2011.
Collage: felt pens (flowers and Hummingbird ).