<Fió‧ri >
Literally “flowers” in italian.
“f-ee-AW-r-ee” or if you can read this /ˈfjo.ri/.
Fiori is my harmless tentative of building a dimension in which everything is allowed and nothing is forgiven.
Fiori is the diary of all the bruises I would have had without it.
Fiori smells like youth and unsaid words.
These flowers are fruit of the purest selfishness: my faults and my prides.
What does it do?
Fiori hides the intimate behind the innocent.
It collects screams of joy and despair, uncontrolled passion, desire and solitude.
Fiori it is not born for you, but for me.
Fiori allows me to see myself the day after with no shame.
Fiori has softened my fall and it does not aim at doing the same with you.
FYI
I would have liked to paint others, but every time I ended up with flowers.
In this project the flower it’s me and you can only watch. Nothing more.
Fears and desires come out easily in front of a canvas rather than with ourself, with other humans, with nature.
I am not patient enough to wait for the crystallization of thoughts through words. Technology proves that images transfer a bigger flow of data to us, more than sound, more than words, and I can only confirm it.
I want to capture the instant and the feelings as they emerge, without any conscious check. I do not want the shame to change the depth of the reds, I do not want my consciousness to try to make the painting less harsh or less obvious.
Canvas does not judge, it does not react. What you see is what I felt, even before I could react to it. That’s why my painting is selfish, it’s a psychotherapy exercise. Patients are not judged, but understood and forgiven. If purgatory would exist, then everything we will do would be painting all day long until our articulations would collapse and blindness would come. If throwing up would be less disgusting, I would call this as a colorful puking. There is no disgust in what I felt, but in many of these work pain was present.
Painting through the flower metaphor could be seen as intimist/sentimental guerrilla. Feelings are hidden, as in a trojan horse, behind a simple concept. I do not care about hitting the public with my feelings, my exercise won’t change. I do care about keeping my diary up to date, if you want to read it, please do, be vulnerable, as I do.