FILIPPO SORCINELLI I have no hands to caress my face Extrait 100 ml The negative, plastic world become expression. We abandon the state of the present, even though the matter of reality shows us the oxygen of this work. But poetry floats and inspires, makes us dream of the evidence, spontaneous. And the improbable reshapes the earth, shouting in the air the roar of the scratch. All silent is the furrow. All that dance is blind deafness, because every amused smile covers the truth, and the shadow that is absent now draws solitude. Ignoring the twilight. No space, no time, no storm. The inexorable writing of things is a mixture of the bright white that contrasts the irregularity of chi regularly drowns the desire to escape. It almost seems like a desire to wait for a return, words written by a melancholic embrace, invisible to the world. And the fabric dances in this infinite hatching, upsetting the air with a silence that soaks the paper, surrounding you with that beloved tobacco now included in the time of a bag. Do you feel the breath now before shooting? In 1961 Giacomelli comes into contact with a group of young students from the Episcopal Seminary of Senigallia. With the permission of the curia he begins to photograph their moments of leisure, after the long hours of study and prayer in preparation for ecclesiastical life. He creates images of priests playing ball, jumping, and even with kittens, while they move in the snow with large cloaks on, while they throw pillows inside the dormitories amidst the confusion and amusement of all; finally he shoots a series of round dances photographing them from the roof of the Seminary. Giacomelli decides to change the title of the series – from Pretini to Io non ho mani che mi accarezzino il volto, the title of a poem by Father David Maria Turoldo – tying each image to very specific concepts. During one of his Sunday visits he brings some cigars to the priests and photographs them while they smoke; thus, if at the hospice he had been accused of photographing the old people to laugh at their nakedness once the photos were printed, at the seminary they accuse him of having created disorder in a place where discipline and rigor must reign. These images that will open the doors of fame to him instead close those of the Seminary, dove from that day on he is denied permission to take photographs. Giacomelli, tries to capture through the lens situations of suffering; that suffering of loneliness of chi, young, he made a life choice that leads him to be alone. The bottle is made with a particular metallic paint to recall the same material of Mario Giacomelli's inseparable camera, which Filippo Sorcinelli he had the fortune of knowing personally during his adolescence. As for the cap, it is covered in a special and exclusive fabric doubled in leather and metal that anyone can “shape” and make their perfumed work unique. The material drapery alludes to the “dance” of the cassocks of the Se...
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