It ‘s the need to do, a kind of “magnificent obsession”, it’s the need to tell stories, our own, writing them on objects. Applied project for an Applied Art, drawing as catharsis, the luck of being able to see the sky in a room.
It ‘s the idea of making with the hands with exclusivity, eccentricity, a formal research. A vase, apparently banal, is a vase, it’s just a vase, it’s a vase.
With a “touch” one touches everything, from a distance, and the implicit eroticism of objects, enjoying with the eyes while touching with the hands, is extinguished because art is a vice, not a virtue. Vase as an ideal book, pages of tales, a diary of stories, of fables, of spells, of journeys, real and imagined. Stories that someone has told before us and someone else will tell after us.
It is our chance to waste time, walking with imagination to escape the darkness and comfort ourselves with the dull sound of emptiness.
We try to make objects with our hands so as not to lose the taste for discovery, because everything is exhibited, shown, shared. We work with porcelain, an idea of white that encloses the black of a deep night and also the sun of a summer day, because porcelain can bear everything: the battles of emperors, dreams of love, an ordinary day.
Completely invented symmetries, completely invented geometries, lines and dots and completely invented figures, leaves and flowers and completely invented colors, perhaps, stolen from nature, to escape the darkness and the shadow of uselessness. Time flows slowly with porcelain, days of water, days of plaster, days of air and, finally, fire, 2,3, 5, 7 days of heat, 1260°C, and slowly fire grants immortality to porcelain.
On ceramics there is everything, as in poems and songs, wrote Ettore Sottsass, and we can do very little to escape the darkness, we can only make ceramics. Only make vases. Vases.