Fiumarella, Attilio

The first two months of the lockdown served to improve our culinary skills. We were sharing recipes and photos of home-made baking. But, one day in April, my mother told me that she hadn't been able to sleep at night, and I could see signs of her giving in to depression. Six thousands miles of mountains and water keep us apart. Two of my three siblings are faraway as well. My mother told me we were like islands - each of us by ourselves. “Who is going to build the bridges?” she asked. I typed back immediately, without much thought, ”Il mare unisce le isole”. Somehow the answer was unexpected and served to change the mood. “That could be the title of a book”, she said. I challenged her to write one. ”The sea unites the islands” works as an oxymoron. It shifts the observation point and opens new perspectives. I started from this statement to approach this work. I have been collecting objects that I find during my daily socially-distanced walks. Things without any defined importance that are normally overlooked and left by the curb. I look at them with new eyes and imagine them with a new meaning, a new life. They became a therapy to escape the days of self-isolation and a ritual to overcome these times.