I would have had time if this exhibition, in question, had fallen on earth at the end of 2009; time to line up the events that have taken place over so many years of luminous career.
The winter would have been interlocutory for me to grow melancholy, to search in hidden corners for thoughts, utopias, trivialities, heartbreaks and gaieties that the heavens have taken care to heap upon me.
Perhaps everything would have been misty, confused, a little rarefied, too bound up with the downpour of rain, of wind and of bitter cold that too often enters the heart.
Winter, the season of the transience of events that we are unable to settle; they flee away in gusts of wind and “buckets of rain”, they flee into the darkness that swallows them up.
But, finally, the sweet spring would descend from the sky; the April and May of blossoms that manage to reconcile the misdeeds of life, to gild them, to bring them to light as they should.
And here is the summer so hot and still ready to lighten our shadows, then our past becomes an illuminated form, a seal; pearl necklace put back together as it should be.
But this is an exhibition that falls to earth in days; the hours are already rushing by, there is no time to waste, no time to rummage in the hidden corners of the heart, in the jambs, in asphyxiated attics, in drawers whose keys cannot be found, no time to exhume lost friends, lost paintings; one must thin out, thin out.
I grabbed what I could at hand: yellowed letters, forgotten daguerreotypes, a few books opened regurgitating postcards of pleasant, exotic places or old Romanesque parish churches in ruins and pictures of friends who know where vanished.
The hours are running out - the chimes of time are excited; I have embraced as much as my arms could hold.
All in haste.

Curated by Maurizio Calvesi