Descrizione
A body emerges from the white like a memory. It’s not born, it reappears. It is suspended, like a fetus before breathing, Trapped in a time without direction.
Each fold tells an imperfection, Each line is a proof of the passage. It’s not just a pictorial gesture, It is the body trace of a soul that changes shape.
Lines is the story of a transformation. It is the echo of an existence that is modeled, That stumbles, that evolves. A body that bends but does not break.
In this fragmented figure there is all our humanity: The fragility, the becoming, The beauty of being still incomplete.
