Hands have always been my weak point.
I observe them, I touch them, I love them. The hands of the people who are dear to me.
Hands speak more than eyes, smiles, and any other expression.
I made this work during my "spiritual and artistic" retreat in Provence, where I spent twenty days in total solitude, drawing and painting.
These are the hands of those who snatched me from that loneliness, during my journey and in everyday life, giving another flavor to the passage of time.
Small, gentle, delicate hands. Who know how to do many things.
The plate is also a distinctive sign of the person portrayed in this work. Except that, instead of the generalities that are written in reality, I decided to change the content into a sentence that, during my journey, made me reflect a lot:
Time and Space do not exist. They expand and shrink according to our mood. What is true and pure can resist them, and what is not important can be destroyed.