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Who I am (cyanotype)

Who I am (cyanotype)

Date:
January 29, 2025

How many times do we look at ourselves in the mirror without knowing who we are, how many times do we walk down the street without the slightest idea of ​​the reason for our existence. Why is our face what it is? Is our character so unique and unrepeatable? Is our life only the result of our choices? Or are we influenced by our DNA? How original are we?
Collage of Cyanotypes layered with passport photos of me and my parents.

“THE MONSTER”

Toning Tea Black Layered Cyanotype, 21x15x3cm

To tell this project, I must necessarily talk about my past. When my mother got pregnant she had problems with heroin addiction and I was born with convulsions on December 23, 1983 at the end of the winter solstice, like an unexpected gift, one of those you wouldn’t have wanted but couldn’t refuse. From her stories she got pregnant because my father hit his head against the shelf in the middle of intercourse; what she forgot to tell me was that my father, half of my DNA, was not the person she had married in her shotgun wedding, he was not the one I called dad and loved unconditionally, that man who in the hell of drugs had contracted AIDS and who found himself in the midst of my childhood fighting for life. In my first memory my father repeatedly bangs my mother’s head against the kitchen door, I will never forget his desperation and despite that act of violence I knew my mother well and the only person I was afraid of was her, she could be a real monster… But at that time I was little and I thought I was the monster, with all the blame I had taken on. Sometimes I asked my grandmother why she didn’t look like my parents, they both had light eyes and very different hair from mine… My grandmother answered me that she had brown eyes before burning them with UV rays. So I felt a bit like a monster like this first piece that I present to you today. With each publication I will tell you a little about my story, so that you can better understand this project that is very intimate to me.

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“THE GODDESS”

Cyanotype on paper, 9 toning and Layered, 21x15x3cm

How much do the mother’s genes influence the daughter? I have never found significant similarities with my mother, but during my experiences somehow, unconsciously, she tried to understand her choices. The relationship with the mother is never easy, but when you grow up with a parent the child has not yet grown up, I have not yet resolved, there remain voids inside us, gaps in our personality that cannot be filled but only managed. I believe that my mother did not want to be a parent, I felt for years the sense of guilt of being born, the responsibility of her broken dreams, of a life that she would have liked to live as an artist. Then, growing up I understood that it was not me who was the problem but her inability to believe in herself that unfortunately she vented on me. Growing up I tried to make my choices as best I thought, but her hand continued to tear away what little free will I had, near her I could not make my choices, I could not hang out with who I wanted, I could not dress as I wanted, I could not eat what I wanted. I ran away from home for the fifth time at 18 and it was the final one but it took me many years to detach myself from her grip and even today I struggle to keep her out of my life and my choices. Despite this my love for her is immense and the hope that one day she will accept me as a person remains, it is much easier to accept yourself if you are accepted by your parents with your own merits and defects, but this is not always possible and at that point you have to become your own parents. Good luck to all of you with your parents.

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“THE UNKNOWN”

Cyanotype on paper, 8 toning on green tea, 1 layer multitoning Cyanotype, 21x15x2,5cm

What is a father for a daughter if not the first love, the belonging, the root of emotion when your gaze lights up with wonder?
Since I was born I saw my father’s eyes without knowing who he really was, I looked at myself in another gaze and saw unconditional love but I didn’t feel the belonging of blood… of course at the time I didn’t understand that feeling… but I felt in my heart that something in me was different. A deceived father took care of me while a blood father spied on me without being noticed, followed me to see if I was okay and frequented me to the point that I had nicknamed him “one of my dads”, once I even gave him a present on Father’s Day…
However, I never understood how much he really cared until he died 2 years ago. After his death I found his cell phone full of photos that he saved when I posted something, the frame on the nightstand with a picture of me and my son, in short, only when he died did I discover how much he cared, a submerged world of feelings that he couldn’t communicate. A month before his death he called me one evening and we spoke for 5 hours, he told me everything and told me the most important sentence of all, he told me that he couldn’t be happier with the woman I had become and that he wouldn’t change anything. Even though we weren’t able to communicate love in the most conventional way, now I know and recognize the affection that tied us together and I’m grateful for it. Thanks to my 2 dads who in completely different ways introduced me to love.

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“BEST FRIEND”

10 Layered Cyanotypes and Black Tea Tone with Embossing.

This is the story of two boys of 13 and 14 who met by a strange twist of fate, in the 70s my grandfather hired a boy to work in his auto parts company because of a mutual friend. The boy’s name was Francesco and when he started working for him he met his daughter, Samuela who was 13 at the time. The two immediately became great friends and their relationship became very important, so important that after a few years I was born. However, they had a strange bond, they couldn’t live without each other but at the same time they couldn’t stand each other for a long time and often argued so badly that they didn’t speak to each other for years. Despite this, for all the following 40 years they kept each other distant company, through the events of life they never abandoned each other, what strange people those two were, she remarried and had another child, he lived his whole life without ever tying himself to others. Every year they met in secret during the holidays at the seaside and when they were together they felt like themselves as if nothing had changed in 40 years.
Two years ago he died because of renal carcinoma after a long illness, from the moment he got sick he no longer wanted to see her, they only spoke on the phone, she tried once to insist but he got angry… now she is looking for ways to hear from him again, to talk to him, to know that even if he is dead he still exists. How strange those two are… maybe I will never understand them but this is their story.

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“THE PREDECESSOR”

Cyanotype on tracing paper and watercolor paper, toning green tea and black tea, 15x21x2 cm

The year before I was born, my mother got pregnant with Angelo, my non-biological father, so to speak, but the situation was very problematic and they were still using drugs, so she decided to have an abortion. The following year she got pregnant again, although not with him, but she decided to keep him anyway because she felt guilty for the previous loss…and so I was born. If life choices had been different, I wouldn’t exist now, but another person would exist in my place, with another blood genetics, another character and another face, maybe he could look like this or resemble us, he would have other attitudes, other dreams and certainly another look. I’ve asked myself many times who he would have been, what role he would have had in the world, what bonds he would have formed…every now and then I think about it and I feel like I arrived here a bit by chance, linking destinies and creating new lives…like chance that intertwines with life. I know his name would have been Reneé.
Good day everyone
Here is a video of the final assembly of the levels, soon I will tell you more about the procedures of this project.

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“THE OTHER FACE”

Cyanotypes turned on tracing paper, needle interventions, 21x15x3 cm

I could have had a face similar to this one or maybe a different one, I didn’t know I wasn’t his daughter and he didn’t know he wasn’t my father, but in any case, the commitment and love that Angelo put into taking care of me despite his health conditions was priceless. While during the week at home with my mother I experienced situations of education, severity and discomfort, on the weekend with him I dedicated myself to all kinds of fun activities, from the water park to the cinema, from the circus to tent excursions in the mountains, or even just to the park, I didn’t care about all these things, I cared that he dedicated the time he had with me to having fun with me and to creating beautiful memories that would remain with me over time. Knowing that he had little time available, I think he decided to use it in the best possible way, so much so that the summer he died in July I had gone to a summer camp in Emilia-Romagna and he joined me to stay on the beach next door every day to write his memoirs and take pictures of me while he watched me from afar; I remember that every time I could I went to say hello and gave him a big kiss. He died the following month of brain cancer, the last time I saw him was in the infectious diseases ward of the civil hospital and I was scared to see him in a wheelchair so they didn’t say anything to me and sent me to my aunt for a while. The night he died then precisely I dreamed of him and woke up crying because I knew in my heart what had happened. Even today I can’t believe the willpower and love that man had for me, an immense, unimaginable love! He will be my dad forever.

“ANGELO”
Cyanotypes toning on tracing paper with perforation interventions 21x15x2cm
This is the last piece on my father Angelo, I worked very differently from the other pieces, I wanted it to seem to come out of the work.
Guys, I loved this man so much and I still love him immensely for everything he meant to me. He is the one who changed my diapers, who gave me milk, fed me and warmed me, educated me with kindness and more often than not and gave me priceless memories, more beautiful memories of my childhood. He also gave me some of the ugliest ones but he didn’t do it intentionally, he did it out of weakness, ignorance or a twist of fate. The worst part was losing him slowly with the childish hope of being able to save him, but it is also true that the pain of loss comes from the joy of having had, and I had so much in my relationship with him.

video

“FRANCO”
Cyanotypes turned on tracing paper with perforation interventions
This is the last piece of my father Francesco, created with the same technique as the previous one.
I lost him 3 years ago, I don’t know if I ever really had him as a father but what is certain is that he has always been by my side since I can remember…
When I was little I didn’t know, he was always at our house and always came on holiday with us, he was always waiting for an opportunity to be with me. Sometimes if I went out or was somewhere and he was worried, he looked for an excuse to come and see me or he looked for me secretly to see if I was okay but these were things I didn’t know either…
I only discovered everything after his death…
Only then did I understand how much he cared, his was a silent and calm love, enormously hidden, like something that should not be revealed, like something that cannot be communicated.
Discovering all his love and interest made me understand how often we hide our feelings just out of fear…and I understand how afraid I was too…to love freely despite everything.
Thanks Dad

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“THE FUNNEL”
Cyanotypes sperimental Tricolor and toned with green and black tea, watercolor paper and tracing paper with perforations, 15x21x3cm

And here we are…who can we be despite everything? Who can we become by choice? The question is very complex and unfortunately I don’t have an answer! Who knows who I would be if I had had different genes or simply a different past?! The answer will never come but I can certainly try to dissect and analyze the parts of me and try to understand them, like water that slowly slips into a funnel and you can see it in small doses even if only for a second…
And then let’s pass everything through a funnel and see what happens…well the first thing I see are calcified tears and old battered pipes…slowly we will see the rest together, who knows how many versions of me I can bring to light…

“COCOON”
8 layered and toned cyanotypes, 1 tricolor and 1 bicolor, 5 coffee and green tea tones, 2 layers of tracing paper, one of which treated with beetroot juice. Pearl inserts and hole-punching operations. Embossing intervention on the last layer. 21x15x3cm

We are being reborn as we are reborn every day but this time more deeply. It is like reinventing ourselves, creating is an act of faith towards ourselves in trusting in what we can discover. The darkest moments are those that create light, and so these pearls become tears that embellish my absent face. Amazing! Evolving is necessary and this is what creating means. Who knows how many parts of me I can bring to light? Little by little as I move forward with this project the walls fall and everything lights up with the rays that enter. Thank you Sun! How wonderful would it be to have you already inside? But without commitment there is no wisdom.
Have a good weekend and thank you for listening to me

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“THE BOTTOM”
Cyanotypes toned with green tea, black tea and coffee. Printed on watercolor paper, tracing paper and fabric. Sewing, punching and pearls.
21x15x3cm

The eleventh and last piece of this series on identity was the most difficult to make, we talk about the bottom that we touch when we fall, that part of us that we would never want to see, the broken self that tries to mend itself and put itself back together, that agglomeration of discomposed parts that struggle to make sense. You know too that nowadays this is rarely talked about, we tend to always show the best part of ourselves…
But inside all of us there is always a moment in which we feel that we are falling to pieces and we consider it a horrible experience…
Well often after years it becomes positive in your eyes if you know how to learn from it.
Good and evil are just concepts.
See you on the next theme.

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