Photo by lilypenelope

Number 1: 0-0-1-1. Number 2: 1-(1)-1. Number 3: 0-0-0-1. Number 4: (1)-0-1-(1). Such a battle among numbers! Photo by lilypenelope

There I was. In a Silent City. All I could see and perceive were endless stretches of no-one. Where am I going? South? North? Back into the past or running fast towards the future? As I kept walking along Avenue-of-Present-Non-Sense I saw a sign hanging mid-air. "This is Beyond Me" next right turn. Moving apathically I kept wondering what in the heck was this surreal disparaged space I was finding myself in. I frantically took another big breath of air and...air was all I got.
I glanced around scanning the Horizon for any sign of relief but...the city stared back at me.
Photo by lilypenelope

Photo by lilypenelope

Trapped in time. Grids and Nets. Lines. Maps. Concrete and Silk. Entrapment, conquer and [dis]-illusion. Design and functionality. And the experience, wandering along the canyonlands of my soul. Preys and Captors. Connections and Detachments. Are You the Prey or are you the Captor? Or are you ultimately the captor of your own prey, yourself? Spaces designed to protect, spaces constructed to hide (what?) or transparent volumetric traps? How to enter, and how to escape? Is there a code, a password to your secret-safe-deposit-box hidden behind the the door of your soul's vault? What if its complexity got lost. Between Concrete and Silk. Treasures and secrets. Hidden behind the lines of your imaginary soulmap. Photo by lilypenelope

Photo by lilypenelope

Photo by lilypenelope

Photo by lilypenelope

Photo by lilypenelope

Photo by lilypenelope

«Que ta vision soit à chaque instant nouvelle. Le sage est celui qui s’étonne de tout."

[ André Gide ]

Extrait de Les nourritures terrestres

Photo by lilypenelope

Yesterday, as I was cleaning up my office (yes, on a sunday afternoon!!) I came across a couple of old tiny boxes. As you probably already know by now I love old things. Photographs, books, typewriters and even trash I find around. But these boxes were right there, in front of my nose and have never noticed them before. Color pastels and chalks. They are actually my mother's. From when she studied architecture in Zurich back in the days! Then, instead of cleaning the office as planned I started taking pictures of them. And my mind, together with this old objects started wandering around. I so miss doing my job like the "old times", like when studying architecture in LA...pencils, pen, rulers, graphite, erasers, all different types of papers. And my hands, at the end of the day, were all dirty. A sign of a direct contact with my work. I made my hands dirty therefore I was! Ohhh those old times!! When you could smell the coffee scent all over the school. At every time of the day and night. I still smile when thinking about it: with my headphones on, listening to Björk, when I would accidentally hit the mug and the coffee would spread out all over my drawings. First was panic. Then was creativity! I would integrate the stains as part of the project! And I would present the drawing as if those fragrant stains were there since the beginning. Actually they were the starting point of it!! Now things are different. I still draw by hands. Just the preliminary sketch. Then pass it over to my employees who put them in the machine. Yes...the machine. Why bother to build a real model when a friggin machine does it for you? Now I just make my hands dirty for fun. But the "machine" has become a boundary between the emotional relationships between me and the spaces I'm supposed to create. Only the smell of coffee remains. All day. But now if I accidentally hit the mug there is no paper there to welcome those stains. Just a keyboard. And the machine! Photo by lilypenelope

Photo by lilypenelope

Photo by lilypenelope

Photo by lilypenelope

As I woke up this morning the first thing I noticed was the horrible weather outside my bedroom's windows. Rain, black clouds and even some fog. The already dirty windows didn't help if not to worsen the outside reality! Well, I decided today was the day. The day to start with a fresh orange juice, a big cup of green tea and a good brioche. Yes, the image of my Ikea table embellished by pieces of everyday design by Alessi started to appear on my morning's canvas. Got out of bed. Showered. And got to the kitchen. All freshened up. Got out the Alessi's juicer and tea cup which looked amazing even in their emptiness. Then a realization suddently came to my mind. I had no oranges. No tea and obviously no fresh brioche! The only thing left to do was to get coffee. At the office! Photos by lilypenelope

Dark in my soul and outside my windows, my world. It's raining. And a new phase has entered my life unexpectedly, unwanted and on top of everything without knocking on my existence's door. It has been a month that evil mean phase has arrived and, as we use to say about guest, that they are like fishes...after 3 days they smell...therefore...time to get the hell away! Go to that door you've entered and leave. It's worse than fishes though. It's with me since more than a month now. But today, lucky me, I left. I finally found an emergency door. I started running down the fire stairs. I found a way to try to get rid of it. Today was the first day of returning to my good old everyday. First step. Of a long stair. But the phase is at least some steps behind....Photo by lilypenelope

A sweet fragrance floating in the air. Vanilla? Repetition. Of rolled leaves. In a cigar store. With my friends Don and Jimmy. Photo by lilypenelope

Photo by lilypenelope

Photo by lilypenelope