This piece has perhaps to do with the breaking - up of light and sound, with the birth of colours, it has even probably to do with Leonardo da Vinci.

... according to Leonardo, light has never been an abstract ray moving in man’s mind and eye, but a radiant sea that, in any case, continously interacts with matter. And matter, objects, men, countries cannot be represented by the continous, precise light of their outlines but only by the continuos vanishment of their surfaces...

This piece has to do with memory, it is a backwards journey into my memory, a journey that has, as a starting point, a coffe - bar in Venice located in Fondamenta Nuove and, as an arrival point, a Levanzo bay, a small and savage island South of Sicily.
This journey is a way that links two opposite typologies of light, sounds and colours : Venice, the breaking - up of matter on the still water of canals; the transformation of every image and colour into a small plug of a self - moving mosaic,that continuosly changes, disgregation and aggregation of echoes and reverberations ... and,

as a tinkling of tea - sets, one hears the sound of venetian churches in a box of casual lives, at night the Adriatic sea fills the canal to the brim, as a bath - tub, rocks the boats as cradles, you sinkling town, where the brother of Nothern Sphinxes, a winged and learned lion does not shout “With whom are you ?”, by closing the book, happy to drown into the lapping of mirrors

... and Levanzo, a direct light, clean, defined, pure colours, that are even made accentuated and rarefied by the longer distance of memory ...a lonely bay;

not more than five sailing boats, fishing nets, bed - sheets like, hung out to dry, sunset, old men watching the soccer match in a coffee - bar, the blue bursts into the border, beyond the star catches fire ...

This piece, and this way, perhaps represent a self - staying colour, between the blue and the violet : the indigo, a very beautiful name but a colour that has never existed, as in the temporal way of the performance (from the present time to the future, in becoming) a reverse way is made, in the memory (from the nearest past to the remotest one) creating a sort of a - temporal bubble, even if

...in the short of a sea compressed in the body of the map; a mollusc shell left on the
sea - bed, with the hidden face, enchanting with the play of the back, Time comes out of wawes,
changing the hand of the clock of the concert - hall and only to that hand, until
coffe cools in the pot, the lagoon is lapping, punishing with owing to the anxiety to f
ix this lanscape in the memory, a landscape capable not to need me ...