July 2, 2010


churches everywhere,
hundred of crosses,  
different interpretations of Christ.

a suffering man, 
an agonized man, 
a bleeding man,


a male body is emerging off the bronze door, 
he seems like being created or vanishing, 
melting back in the metal, 
floating and at the same time, 
trapped in a thick and heavy magma

a cross is embossed  on his chest.
his body hasn't neither feet nor hands
he is not crucified 
he has a cross as a stigma deep carved on him,
soaring and dividing his chest
sealing, marking, wounding him
and leaving his body for ever 
as a reminder, a gesture of passion.

(pictures: the door of the Basilica of St. Mary of the Angels and the Martyrs
in Rome, created by Igor Mitoraj in 2006)

July 1, 2010


Rome was dumped and hot that summer afternoon.
I decided anyway to go to the famous graveyard called "Cimitero del Verano" and take some pictures of the sculptures that symbolized dead and sorrow and the most frightened feeling of the human race,
the unknown.

Strong shadows fall almost as sharp knives creating a landscape  that reminded me nightmares from my childhood when the sense of dead seemed to be most remote but always culturally present.

confronting my self with these images at my age resulted in another kind of feeling,
it becomes most present,
something that it would happen not to far away.

I wasn't afraid
but sadness, heaviness and displeasure invaded me 
and I felt tired.

(the pictures where taken at Cimitero del Verano, Rome, with an iPhone)