Back to my origins. My places, my city, longing for times that I never lived.
The incomprehension of not being able to be who I am.
Here my self-portrait becomes word and sign.
I reflect in someone else’s existence.

Origins

I close my eyes and travel with my mind.
Paper and pen in my hand.
The shapes of my daily routine come to life.

I would never have believed it possible.
I take a picture, I want to tell Mom and Dad!

There is nothing.
The polaroid is black.

It was just a dream.  

Favole a luci spente

Here I am. Yes, it’s me, but it’s also you.
Come closer, and recognize yourself in imperfections,
Tear the paper and recompose your features.
Now this isn’t you. Choose who you want to be, this is the time.

Something breaks and restarts from there, from the pins that sew wounds and betrayals.

I want corners of peace, where I can make up and break up myself again and again.

Who's the Sinner?

My urge to cast light on my greatest fears and weaknesses
Compels me to stain objects
That furnished my cruelest nightmares.
Expressions and symbols of who’s seeking to escape,
But then trembles at the mere thought of doing it.

Le Cose Semplici

My life in fragments and secret images, recovered in an old Hat Box.
I open and “read” it, as I would do with a coming-of-age story.
The scandal of unveiling my essence.
An inner investigation in the places of memory.

I Have a Dream

The day when, lying on the floor with palpitations,
I took on my camera, turned it toward the ceiling and started shooting,
I gave birth to what I call today: Mapping the Active Principle.
Once more, the face is covered, erased, and then rewritten by the active principles.

What do those signs mean? What are those formulas?

Let’s walk this path together. Give me your hand.
Let’s enter that skin wrapping, and let’s unwrap.

What can you see?

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Cecilia Gioria