It was 1996 when I saw two boys sitting on the steps of the little parochial church in Lucardo on our hillside, shoulder to shoulder looking down on a gadget that both my boys were familiar with at that time: Nintendo’s first Gameboy. What struck me was the contrast between the ancient medieval bells and the cheering of the boys sparked by electronic sounds. From then on I couldn’t help combining two eras, feeling time&space as one and getting glimpses of this extraordinary moment on earth.
There were signs of time&space melting together all over Florence: the videos projected onto ancient walls; interactive science games in museums; Leonardo DaVinci speaking from VR goggles; hearing a rotary dial on your computer to connect to the internet; virtual tours of ancient sites via Google maps; etc. The insights were endless, moving at an extraordinary pace. Like my mom (1924-2016) would say, “In my long life in this short era I went from living as people lived in the dark ages to traveling in space”. My son had put a virtual reality helmet on his grandma’s head as we watched her huge smile pointing to various planets and “swimming” in space to get closer to a star.
Back in the early 90’s I had already left the fresco restoration team in Palazzo Pitti and began making frescos of my own, albeit tiny ones given the amount of space I had to work with while raising two little boys. The one thing I salvaged while working on deteriorating ancient frescos in various churches (medieval and renaissance) was the loose intonaco I had to sweep up after work. Rather than throwing out the ancient powder, I put it in a jar as a keepsake. There was something magical about the combination of calcium and sand spread out on a wall from 7-8 centuries ago and crumbling to the floor. My jar preserved time.
Then CDs came into the picture. They fascinated me. They looked like something from outer space, their rainbow rays of light jutting out from the center. They were beautiful, regardless of what was in them. My mind kept reverting to the ironies of this amazing century, especially working in an ancient city and witnessing the ever-changing technology that was, and is, happening during our lifetime. The CDs seemed godlike, and the ancient intonaco in my jar seemed the key to glorify the union of my fascination of time&space. I managed to put a layer of intonaco on the moving reflections and smooth surface of the CDs and paint a detail of a medieval or renaissance image (using 000 brushes from doing restoration!). I used the eye of god as a logical base for incomprehensible time&space.
Most of my pieces I gave away, but just last month, our friend’s 14 year-old stood mesmorized in front of one of the pieces that remained in our house. I couldn’t help but think she was all part of it, the evolution, the Tuscan roots looking into the future, observing the past. She took a photo with her cell phone, turned to me and said she was going to put it on Instagram. I laughed and thanked her for the compliment. Somehow that piece had captured her spirit through the center of the CD, and gave her a Giaconda smile.
Painting from 1996. Mixed media. Ancient intonaco, fresco on CD and wood base.
“My jar preserved time.”
We all need one of these