Translator: Maurizio Berti Reviewer: Denise RQ
Good evening ladies and gentlemen,
it is a great honor to be here with you tonight.
It is also a big challenge for me.
I've never been good at expressing myself using words,
I've always done it by drawing.
I am an artist,
and what we've just seen are the images that tell my modus operandi,
namely, the creation and production process of my works.
In my opinion, the artist is a creature
who sees and feels the world and life in a special way, a different way
and who processes messages and stimuli internally through her gift,
in order to bring them back to life
in the shape of objects, products, actions, or artistic thoughts
that may touch the emotional and aesthetic sphere.
The artist is born an artist, there is no right or wrong,
it is just the way it is.
I am here tonight because I do not consider myself just an artist,
rather a sort of social artistic service.
I express myself through the tool of art, which in turn uses me as a tool,
to send a message to the world, that is social,
that surely helps me, but also tries to help your neighbor.
I will not talk about art tonight but about life,
and the chances and opportunities life offers…
and will refer to three points.
First, everyone has a vocation inside, a gift
thanks to which one can really transform, - and here comes point two -
the poison that sometimes comes in life, into medicine for existence.
I am a tangible example.
I survived myself, and became my medicine.
My vocation is to send a message and to support people,
and I do it through art, my body, my own person and my experience.
I will tell you a story.
It is a bit sad, but with a happy end, and the end it's me.
My dad does not agree that I tell this story
and says it is not fair to look for people's compassion,
because it might feel as victimism,
which is not necessary to be successful in one's job.
He is not wrong, but I answer with love:
dear dad, I do not tell this story
in order to sell more pictures, or be famous and successful worldwide.
No.
But to stir consciences and soothe spirits.
And if at least one person will be inspired by this story,
then I will know I am on the right way for my mission.
Well, sit back and relax as you are in a theater.
Once upon a time there was a girl, about seven year old.
She was affectionate, cheerful, lively and light-hearted,
like all the children of that age, more or less.
She used to play, hug everyone and would trust people.
One day, this girl, was playing with the other kids of the neighborhood
in the courtyard, when suddenly; an adult approached her,
maybe the dad or brother of one of the other kids, I don't know.
But surely she would trust him
because he took her hand and they left together.
A new game, he said, and took her through a front gate
and there was a dark area fenced off by a little wall.
A new and secret game, he said,
you'll be a good girl and will not tell anyone.
Trust me, and I will also give you a nice present.
They laid down.
He started caressing her gently,
then started touching her, and went on top of her
and was breathing very deeply.
Bad, isn't it?
She was not sore nor scared: it was a game, a secret game.
But felt she had done something wrong.
It was not painful, it was not violent: she was not raped, but abused.
Abuse implies you know the person, and you trust that person.
I have no memories of my life before I was seven.
My mum says I was already drawing, before I learned writing, but I can't remember.
I remember my life after seven.
I cannot even say how it changed nor according to what,
because I have no terms for comparison.
I don't know how my life would have been without that event.
I know that from that moment on it took a bad direction,
bad and nasty.
It would feed itself exponentially with further abuses, violence, perversions
and any kind of self-destruction, and blame, guilt.
Why?
Why did he choose me amongst all those kids?
Why? Maybe I was bad, so maybe it was my fault.
But inside me there was a flame, little but strong.
My vocation allowed me to transform the poison into a medicine.
I was looking for the right way, enduring,
and drawing.
For about ten years I removed that event,
inexplicably living badly every moment of my life,
feeling inadequate everywhere and different from everyone
- male, female, coetaneous, teachers, friends, parents, relatives -
Different, and bad;
but also very good.
And I was constantly drawing everywhere,
But when I grew up I was not brave enough to support my inclination,
for instance studying at the Academy of Fine Arts.
A constant fear, the lack of courage and self-esteem,
and being convinced I did not deserve a grain of happiness,
are some of the many consequences for the victims of sexual abuse.
So I enrolled on the faculty of architecture,
more linear, rational and safe.
Florence is wonderful, and I was good; but increasingly more sad,
with a monster inside me.
I was pretending normality, while hell was growing inside me.
With such a gift I really had to start being an actress,
cinema, theater, a natural talent.
But the passion for self-destruction
gained the upper hand, slowly, on everything.
And it was not difficult for drugs to enter my life,
to fade pain,
disconnect heart, brain,
to challenge life and death.
Drugs, addiction, constant failures, increasingly further down...
And again abuses and violence:
I hated my body, I hated my whole life
and I especially hated being a woman.
But that little flame was still alive,
tiny but vivid.
My vocation allowed me to notice beauty wherever it was hidden,
and to transform the daily dread, namely poison, into medicine.
All the girls I spoke with in rehab
- all of them -
they all had been sexually harassed by family or friends.
Sexual harassment to a child leaves an immense mark.
I have been very lucky, as I would draw always and everywhere.
Rehab, detox, love of my family,
case-workers, doctors, psychiatrists, psychologists.
And lots of love and strictness and discipline;
but above all that little flame and my vocation,
were supporting me to resist, not to give up and thrive again.
So, when I was 33 I was reborn: went back to university;
started training my body and my mind,
I embraced Buddhism;
I started to draw for a collection, an exhibit
my first own exhibit in Cosenza, my home town.
Then Rome, to cut my teeth, and displaying my work
in bars, book shops; then, in art galleries, collective exhibits;
and eventually a solo exhibit.
I won an important art contest,
then in art shows in Italy and abroad,
until I've been invited to the Biennale of Venice.
And then publications, reports, dissertations on my work,
invitations to fine arts academies to hold seminars on drawing.
Creation of art projects together with institutions, authors, writers,
associations that safeguard the rights of women
abused or harassed.
I even went to Australia, as ambassador of the Italian art
and sponsor of an association
that protects and supports art exchanges between the two countries.
Now art is my drug, art is my therapy.
And the love and desire to spread and communicate a message
are my fuel.
I've always desired it, with my tools,
even though I wasn't strong enough.
I'm not sure yet, I might never be strong enough.
I will never be a very balanced person.
And my artistic nature is not very helpful,
but today I celebrate that little flame,
that has become a powerful burning fire.
Shadows and darkness are there,
but I can manage, almost dialogue with them.
Am I different? Yes.
But it is also thanks to this difference and to what happened to me,
than I can feel the others and enhance their goodness and beauty.
I draw with my Bic pen,
and interpret with love wonderful and strong women,
who are able to become what they really want:
from Virgin Mary to Michelangelo's David,
to the Vitruvian man, and even God during creation,
or just themselves.
Because - and this is the third point – it is not easy to be a woman,
more so if you are a hurt child.
My vocation allows me to shout it at the top of my voice
or whisper it softly.
It has always been very difficult to be a woman, but it is great.
It is a perpetuating miracle, it is a gift.
And with my gift it is my honor and duty
to send a message of strength, hope, beauty and light.
Poison can indeed be converted into medicine.
Each event of our life develops such vocation.
We already have everything inside, it just has to get out and express itself.
And our life experiences are the tools to express such vocation
that is enclosed in an acorn,
but already holds what is necessary to become a majestic oak.
I don't know how many people I'll reach out, how many hearts,
and how much light I will manage to infuse:
I surely know that I would have been a poor architect.
Poison can be converted into medicine.
Each one of us, thanks to her vocation can send a message through her life,
and inspire other people's life.
Because, dear ladies and gentlemen, life is sacred, childhood is sacred.
And for me, with my experience,
I can just repeat over and over again
a woman's body is beautiful and sacred.
Thank you so much.
(Applause)