The year 2020 is undoubtedly a unique year for many of us. For me, this corresponds to my non-hazardous arrival, in the southern Italian region, Puglia and more precisely in the middle of the Gulf of Taranto.
While walking the paths of the Ionian coast, it didn't take long for me to be struck by the abundance of marine litter. In the end, anyone who walks along the Mediterranean coast can only be stunned by such a presence.
However, it did not take me long either to realize that here, this omnipresence is not noted by these residents somewhat distracted and blinded by a poverty preventing any possible awareness.
Of course, "times are changing" we are told.
Yet here, the sea does not yet observe this change and I must admit that in my eyes as artists this vision that could be described as horror, does not have one.
Far from me the idea of idolizing the pollution of the seabed but in truth it constitutes for me a means of harvesting an endless raw material, because constantly renewing when the capricious Sirocco draws his breath.
I like to imagine a poetry around a personification of the Mediterranean “mother”. Indeed, here who does not know the story told beyond the Calabrian mountains?
“Se desideri qualcosa, le rocce sul fondo del mare te lo portano as a dono, perched quello che dai al mare, il mare te lo restituisce al centuplo. Il mare ha questa capacità di restituire tutto dopo un pò di tempo. "