until November 28, 2007 has seen the exhibition (acrylic on wood)
Snapshots
women portrayed in Rome
Franny THIERY
Exhibition The exhibition is presented da un RACCONTO di LIDIA RIVIELLO
Le donne di Franny
di LIDIA RIVIELLO
Quando chiesero a Franny di rimettere a posto le cose, gli oggetti animati ma dispersi di alcune donne in una stanza a Trastevere, lei entrò in punta di piedi, con attenzione, per non rompere il cristallo appena sospeso sulla soglia dello sguardo.
Vi erano aria e acqua dentro la stanza, e pure terra, per non parlare del fuoco e dei fiori. C’era tutto quello che serviva a Franny per vedere fino in fondo e in quel mondo, non l’astratta e dispersiva “altra metà del cielo”, ma il cielo stesso, intero, reale, un azzurro concreto e dirompente. Mancavano items, those who are usually women of a story to leave in the morning and return in the evening at home without fear of having lost everything with nothing.
He kept his eyes on Franny, not to forget any details, not to leave the dark no metal or glass, and even the fan. They are only objects thought of any women, and took over the air fall to the ground, went back to the fundamental research of the accessory, one that takes up women's hair, which has paintings of girls in blue, the mysteries.
It says that of those women, Franny found a clip from the burning tip, a shoe with red lacquer, a photo come move, tracked down the notes secretly, the dates of departures and returns canceled book not to mention the betting with the neglect made during a holiday of true love that never ended.
He dug in a mattress, the softness that Laure had won after sleepless nights before the New Year each year. He tried the mystery in the drawer where she kept her lipstick Daria, freed suspect deception. The mattress
followed the heel of a shoe tenderly left on the doorstep, floors of shadows and adolescent swan crossed barefoot as you cross the ocean in twenty years: in one breath. Finally got out the essence of a neighborhood youth, a scent of Swabia, the smell of maturity, the next to shine.
Franny was unimpressed, he remained during the entire trip and was held at the end of the room, looked there where there was no light, there where the overlaps another empty void, and realized that they were not objects but women fail to not there yet. Then
tracked by a jellyfish unconscious, a dream made into a French countryside, in the light when you add more light, and invented, tracking the stellar printouts of the city, his women, and called them by name, and that was enough So they returned the account into which he had lost all that time. From that sense of true
Franny he made a full portrait of a woman. All her friends and sisters now living in the room of memory, that held together the links of history, and made another and another and another became a were made in two to help each other not to disappear, in a Rome that "if you hide you find the first star of the morning and you do not give up more."
When it came to take the room out into the street, alleys, always on the premises, in the squares, then women Franny found themselves lost their true image, so the spirit that dwelt in the myth, the true body rare to hold dear.
inhabit the space of a Rome where the line if you dream to mean that you do not just have a dream that appears, and we did a big party with all that forgetfulness, with the crystal of the time with their regained beauty. The women of Franny became longer lives than ever, to live long lives, waiting for an eclipse girl. These women put out more light, no longer did the dark forever. If this ever happened did not last long, time to replace them once again those things left in a corner of the portrait, the background of youth. I bear witness that no woman was ever looked at Franny by itself, without history, without memory.
Lidia Riviello
Rome, October 2007
