When I was imagining a tribute exhibition to Hugo Pratt's Corto Maltese in my mind.
I was thinking on how Hugo visioned women while loving them.
I remember reading several interviews and books by him and his female characters had dreams, desire and lots of passion.
Corto was Pratt and Hugo was Maltese and everybody knows that.
I've thought on a different narrative for this upcoming exhibition.
Watching Peaky Blinders tv series with the main actor Thomas Shelby with a broken heart being a gypsy, like Corto was, while listening in loop to Nick Cave's song "Red right hand" and all the versions of it by different musicians/bands trigered something on my head.
I've thought on writing poems to Italian women because some people say that they're wild, filled with passion, desire, emotional and I wanted to know the true behind this myth.
I started talking and being with them for the past years and they're quite fascinating, be them artists, doctors or simple common women.
They're pretty and talk a lot with feeling and expression, but their inner energy and power is in their eyes.
Below are some poems that I've wrote in the moment to some Italian women who I admire and love and see them as passional/emotional/latin that clearly knew that they had a huge empire, like the Roman one was, and they still try to be as strong as they were then.
Corto and Hugo always mentioned the importance of women from different cultures in life, this is a sort of a tribute narrative to him because without words that form stories or tales (be them fictional or real), images have only half of their power.
Many thanks to all international artists that support some of my ideas or projects.
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| A Corto Maltese artwork page by Hugo Pratt and a saying from Australian singer Nick Cave at Peaky Blinders tv series |
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| Claudia Guarnieri |
You were observing your phone...
Your long hair was begging you to go home...
You were telling me this:
- There's a snake in the lake...
- There's a log in the fog...
Your beautiful eyes carried the prettiest lies...
I was sailing the sea...
You were telling me about what's being free...
- Paper...
- Scissor...
- Stone...
You said this to my bone...
- Perché l’anima è in te?
You asked this to me.
I was telling you that I was with thee...
Your awesome jeans were some sort of means...
You told me about fashion...
You told me about pashion...
You told me about Italy and even fraternity...
You told me about an app...
I was thinking on a hat....
You were whispering this to me in my left ear:
- Bring the spear...
- Dare the fear...
You were whispering this to my right ear:
- Sei insostituibile. Per questo è dannata...
I was thinking about some data...
Near the bench where you were seat flowers meet...
You told me this:
- Man, there's pain in the rain...
- There's a story and glory...
- There's room and a broom...
- There's halloween...
- You know what I mean...
I was reading a book while observing your marvellous look...
You told me something about a hook and a cook...
You were walking slowly near a boat without a coat...
Your beautiful feet were crossing the path where we met...
You told me about a call...
You told me about the Fall...
You told me about Summer...
You told me about a bummer...
You told me about Spring...
You told me about a ring...
You told me about Winter without a whimper...
You told me about a scream...
You told me about a dream...
Clothes were wet and without us knowing what to do, our shadows merged into the blue...
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| Marika Baldini |
We were in Spain...
You were telling me something about the rain...
We were in Italy...
You were being tricky...
We were where every single street meet...
You told me about a treat...
We were in U.S.A.
You told me "come what may"...
I was observing your figure in double...
I wasn't seeing any trouble...
You were counting seconds, minutes and hours...
You were smelling flowers...
Your golden dress was inside a mirror in a game chess...
You told me that you don't love to impress...
We were drinking rain with no pain...
Your long hair embraced your legs without despair...
You told me about a dance...
You told me about a romance...
You told me about a tree root..
You told me about your left foot...
Ache was in some road where news were load... You told me this:
- Now...
- Bow...
I wasn't understanding your code because it was cold...
I gave you my tie...
You sigh...
We were in a car that wasn't driving that far...
We were inside a train in vain...
We were blessed with grace in an embrace...
You told me this:
- I'm the devil at night...
- I'm the one who gives you light...
- I'm the one who tells you about an insight...
- I'm anima, brain and gain...
- I'm a cherry pie...
- This isn't a lie...
- I'm in a photo shoot...
- I can never reboot...
- I'm away in a day...
- I'm whatever you say...
- I do pray...
Dinner was served and you asked me this:
- Hey Man, where's my morning kiss?
Elisa Bella
You told me something new...
- Hey Man, let's plant a tree where we used to be?
I was thinking that nostalgia was in your mind while finding memories that were kind...
You continued telling me this:
- I'm a juve fan...
- I know that you're great god pan...
Your hair turned itself from black to gold and its life was as tasty as a cake slice...
You were wearing a skirt jeans thinking on what does it means...
You told me this:
- There's a ghost in a goal...
- There's a host in a ball...
- Give me a book...
- I'll give you my look...
I didn't knew if your eyes were age inside a page... I didn't knew if tomorrow you would remember yesterday...
You only whispered this to my left ear:
- Come what may...
- Let the devil play...
- No bills to pay during the day...
We weren't inside a call...
We weren't staring at some wall...
We weren't even in the restaurant wall...
- Pray...
You said...
I didn't knew how to do it, so I became sad...
You kissed my hair and I was taking pictures of you trying to find if they were true...
In some crowd, we heard a shout:
- GOAL... You said...
I wasn't mad...
We were both happy because the guy who put the ball on the net was Portuguese and he never asked "please"...
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