The cold has returned again.

This photo of me in front of my studio was taken one August afternoon by a young photographer from Viterbo who has lived in Edinburgh for several years. These shots were meant to stay private, but among the many, each more beautiful than the last, I wanted to publish this image — which shows me in a pose unusual for me — because here Lara Cappelli managed to capture the pride with which I live my simple work.
Images have always moved me, and my work lives through them. Today, now that we are all still and forced to hold back, I don’t want to hold back from thanking the artist who managed to capture the pride with which I normally carry out my work. Looking again at this photo, taken only a few months ago, was like opening an old album from which a distant memory resurfaced, and in an instant took me back to the warmth of that afternoon, to the sound of passers-by’s voices, to my little wooden stool, and to myself sitting as if on a throne, regal and happy on an ordinary working day.
Lara has gone back to Edinburgh, where she has lived for several years, like so many other talented young Italians busy chasing their dreams, far from their loved ones and the safety of the family nest. I admire these young lives greatly as they find their way in the world, following the needle of a compass moved by the desire to fulfil themselves. Now that I am an adult, even though I recognize myself in them, I feel a romantic melancholy, because this moment requires a double somersault, great clarity and skill in staying focused on dreams while staying grounded in life.
Lara, for example, last year entered — and won — a competition that would have made her, for a few months, the official photographer of London’s National Opera House, but the lockdown also interrupted that thrilling experience, since theatres were among the first places to close in Europe. It’s true, we now have to live normality as an extraordinary event, but it is precisely the non-essential things that make life more pleasant, because they sink into the soul and nourish the spirit.
For some of us who live drawing on the most varied artistic expressions, which are, in their entirety, our means of living, I can assure you it is very hard to be reassured only by our own emotions, which can only spill back into ourselves. That’s how that simple click, a silent emotion, rematerialized on a wonderful summer afternoon, on a Via San Pellegrino that was not crowded but gently crossed by peaceful tourists and by my steady, proud smile, because I had gone back to doing my work.
The cold has returned again.