Any tiny thing has a weight, any word has a weight.
The Cosmos of a woman has no sharp corners or edges: the Graces move with determined but fluid movements. They run everyday life and wisdom with well coordinated accuracy.
They cannot give up colours and lights.
The goddesses of life know even too well that ‘black’ does not express rationality. It is only the representation of death.
Just as the Indian goddess with soft breasts and many arms. A woman is the clear symbol of a human being who can do and finish many things at the same time.
A man at work: black neat table, black folder, black pen, white sheets of paper.
A woman at work.
Open computer on the kitchen table. Besides a big bowl from where to pick a bunch of grapes, a mandarin, a red cherry. Farther, among books and sheets of paper, the little flowerpot with the big fading peony she has not the courage to through away. Together with the melody coming out from a DVD the ground-note is the mumbling from the saucepan where red onions and redcurrants cook for an extraordinary jam. The telephone rings and her curious cat comes out from a curtain (that should be draped in a different way) getting near, rubbing himself against the phone as to know who is it.
Graces do many things at the same time, they need multiple spaces in order to work, they need sentimental objects, which always express beauty, journey, escape, dream.
Text by Fiora Gandolfi