via santo stefano, 94
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everyone is standing up.
the choir of good-mornings and then we start.
I open my new exercise book.
a strong feeling fills up my eyes and my heart: I want to 'soil' that whiteness!
because even now when I see a new white exercise book I feel the same feeling, the pleasure of the whiteness that captures light and reflects it just like the moon does, just like the stars do every night with their magic, mysterious light leading me through my most intimate times, between wake and sleep and then on and on until I plunge into the arms of the darkness.
I 'soiled', I filled those white pages, I turned light into volume.
I am still at my old desk and I am placing white pages on top of each other until they make up a wall.
I look at them, I see them as an architecture.
I place a source of light at some distance and try to make the light turn around my wall as the sun would do around a building.
in my design, I hide a lighting fixture behind a hole in the ceiling, in the wall, between the wings of a door, I hide it and make it invisible, but in this way I give it back its main function, that of throwing light.
I use artificial light that in no way must ever imitate natural light, it can just observe it and learn from it.
I am still in class.
I look up from my white pages, by now soiled with the black spattering of a pencil.
my wide-open eyes are fixed to a blackboard soiled with white chalk.
black marks on white pages, white marks on a black surface.
here comes again the twinkling of the stars, shivering in the dark of the night, and I get there, and from there, in the dark of the night, I look down to the artificial lights of the city.
they look like fire, the most powerful source of light that man has ever discovered, the most beautiful and precious one.
it is the only one that can stir all our senses, it lets us see and captures us with its ever-moving light, it gives out warmth, it dries up your throat, its crackling turns into a sound, the smell of burning wood is unique.
thousands of lamps have been invented over the centuries to meet new needs, to achieve new targets, but there is a new source of light: the light of white pages, a challenge, a feeling, the sense of my designing.
I notice, as I look at the sheets of white paper, that my thinking as an adult and a designer comes from a child's unspoken feelings: today, every time I start all over again and keep studying that design of mine, basically made of light that comes from the day and starts all over again at night, in search of true light.
looking for, creating true light, every time a new one, a different one for every new design that is a challenge and 'why not?' the possibility of impossibility.
possible, believe me, possible!!!!