THE FORGOTTEN ANGEL

Let an angel sit at the table with us.
An angel of those forgotten even by the Lord,
one of those poor, dirty and drunk,
an angel who has no one,
who does not expect gifts.
If there's room for one of them then perhaps there will be room for a divine child.

HELP THE HELPLESS

 

Do not do to others what you would not want done to you ».
I have made this concept my philosophy of life. But I went even further.
Because not only do I not do what I would not like to have done to me, but I do what
I would like others to do for me. And it is normal that, thinking in this way,
I expect the maximum from others: the very maximum that I am ready to give at any time.
And it hurts to realize every time that I have deluded myself and that I have placed trust in people who did not deserve it.
And it hurts to realize that you are the only one who believes so much in friendship. And it hurts not to be able to give less.
I give all of myself, mind, body and heart. But the others, in return, don’t even give a little of their time

What is a hero? What is an idol?
Simply someone who does his job to the maximum, does what is right, because if he feels it inside,
he does good because his morality is stronger, he makes art for others, to spread beauty in the world,
or someone who he says things as they really are without worrying about the consequences
Someone who would also be willing to give his life for all this and for others
Those who can be considered as such will remain in history or in the memory of people,
even if only one who will keep them in their hearts and minds forever.
These people have given a great purpose to their lives,
leaving the world, an idea, something perhaps priceless and ineffable.

It’s not about loving people, it’s about doing them good. The well-known difference between saying and doing is not just proverbial. Doing good is the only reason we were sent to this planet. There are men who do good, others who do evil, still others who do nothing. You may not agree, but I consider the latter to be the most dangerous and useless. Doing nothing is a very serious fault. The truth is that you change the world by doing good. You don’t have to go to the other end of the world to do it .. Just take care of the people around you. Never take a smile, a kindness, a kiss for granted. Even when you think you can’t change anything, when it’s heavy, it does the same. No it does not. We sow and cultivate the good always, also and above all in small things.

WHY AMLETA CREATES SOMETHING

Art is his need. An instinctive need to create. An instinctive need to be and communicate one’s being to others. Affirming its existence with the creative act is the only way for Amleta to live. Feeling such a force within oneself, an energy, an immense explosion, a storm that never settles down. A sea that is always stormy to its depths. Being a river in flood, dangerous for others, not accustomed to strong liquid currents, but a natural and splendid element for her. Art is its power. The power to create from nothing. To give life to what has never existed, which has never been seen, which has never been read. A sublime, divine, most envied power. Art feeds on souls. Art is insatiable, it is its fierce demon, and it has walked this path all its life looking for an escape. But you never get rid of art because only art makes it free and alive. It is like a second skin and if you take it off you become skinned and you cannot live anymore. Amleta has art in every cell, like a deadly virus, which never becomes a disease but which accompanies it throughout its life as a faithful travel companion. Art grinds the flesh, the spirit, the whole life. He raises it in the highest sky, being able to see without eyes, hear without ears, draw without using his fingers; and then makes it descend into the most terrible depths of the human abyss. Art is a miracle of life and death. Whoever possesses the gift is condemned to a parallel life. Amleta goes in and out as if from a window. She enters and exits herself, feeds herself to the pigs, gives her vital breath, remains in pieces and then begins again. Who would ever want such a life? Yet many envy it and do not know what it means to have the fire of inspiration that consumes! Art is its condemnation. She didn’t choose to start drawing, then painting, writing and playing at the same time. A dark force took his hands, and guided his dark energy. He was thus able to empty the pain he felt while living and to enclose it within his creations. Nothing remains of that period: everything burned. Unfortunately, something was saved from his subsequent dark periods, still not gone and up in smoke. Hamlet was born on a cursed island, in a sick country, and soon she got rid of her life and the pain took her far away, where she continued to suffer and create, create and destroy, herself, paintings, installations, plays, notebooks, sculptures, … Amleta creates and destroys what he creates. Hamlet is and is not at the same time. He yearns for this perennial creation and has tried several times to free himself from his prison without success. This gift, this power, this torment of colors and words, is the nectar of his days. Everything else is just a bitter side dish.