{"id":15042,"date":"2023-07-25T11:32:30","date_gmt":"2023-07-25T09:32:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/galleriaduepuntozero.com\/progetto\/duepuntozero-terrace\/"},"modified":"2023-10-25T12:06:58","modified_gmt":"2023-10-25T10:06:58","slug":"duepuntozero-terrace","status":"publish","type":"progetto","link":"https:\/\/galleria20service.com\/en\/progetto\/duepuntozero-terrace\/","title":{"rendered":"DUEPUNTOZERO TERRACE"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
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\/\/ IVAN PICENNI SYMBOLISM<\/h2>\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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“For the first time I am painting murals representing my childhood in a gallery in Bergamo.<\/em><\/strong> At the gallery owner’s request, I improvised with my own symbols, the same ones that remind me of my past life and at the same time reflect my real one”
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Ivan Picenni<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t

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\/\/ NUMBER 35<\/h2>\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t
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\u201cWaking up in the farmhouse was marked by the noise of nature and the scent of the milk that mother warmed every morning before coming to wake me up in that room on the first floor.<\/em><\/p>\n

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That morning the doors filtered the morning light, giving a subtle glow to the room where I slept. Peeking out from under the wool blanket and looking towards the door, waiting for her to come get me, I noticed that the scent of milk was becoming more and more intense, it wouldn’t take long to arrive. The door suddenly opened: there she was. She picked me up and held me tightly to her Approaching the dresser with a smile, she took a bag and, sitting on the bed, began to make me try on everything: sweaters, tank tops, shorts and shirts… everything new! She undressed me and dressed me. How strange all this, it didn’t seem real to me… what beautiful things! \u2026 But is it Christmas? The best item was the green and blue plaid shirt. I begged my mom to put it back on, I was too happy. She patiently took it back and gave it to me, happy to see me so happy. While I was busy putting it on again, I noticed a small number on the collar, no. 35. I looked at it, I touched it. Instinctively I raised my eyes, turning them towards her. Suddenly my mother changed her attitude. Turned. Her smile suddenly gave way to tears that began to stream down her face. She hugged me so hard it almost hurt. She held me close to him and, caressing me, whispered to me that she would never leave me. <\/em><\/p>\n

The time had come. There were evenings that at the table we talked about something that, who knows why, concerned me, and that made my mother and grandparents’ mood change constantly. A phrase that my grandparents said to my mother remained in my mind when she asked them to lower their voices saying in Bergamo dialect: \u201cl\u00e8 amo picin\u00ec\u2026 al capes mia\u2026\u201d (he is still small\u2026 he doesn’t understand\u2026). She, being the great mother she was, knew that things weren’t exactly like that. That number on the collar was confirmation of something I had already intuited: my imminent departure for college. I felt like my pig friend. Both of us were deceived by fate in the same way, going from happiness to sadness for a moment. <\/em><\/p>\n

Just as the happy pig was betrayed by the corn scattered outside the pen which led him to run to the porch where certain death awaited him, so I was dazzled by all those new clothes, by my mother’s smile and affection. That moment had happened to me too, even if it was a deception that would not have led to my death, in an instant I had gone from happiness to sadness. Pig friend, arrow after arrow you ran towards death, losing your freedom and your life.<\/em><\/p>\n

I, number 35, arrow after arrow, had the chance to get up and take back the freedom that had been taken away from me, riding through life supported and supported by the affection of my parents. Even if distant, they have always been present in me, linked by something that went beyond, eliminating all the arrows, until the day I returned, the day I was reborn, returning to my family.”<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t

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Childhood memories, 2022<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t

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