This is the story of Joanathan: the intense chronicle of 23 days, spent between art, effort, and human connections, during a shared residency with other artists, united by the common goal of each creating their monumental paper sculpture. Each page of his diary bursts with passion, describing the physical and emotional challenges he faced along the way. Jonathan talks about the incredible energy within the group, how they helped each other out, and the beauty of creating something together. It is a truly inspiring story about how art can bridge cultures, build resilience, and offer a glimmer of hope. His monumental sculpture "The Leap of Desire" shows a cardboard squirrel - named John - jumping towards his desires. Despite the modest material, the sculpture carefully captures the squirrel's ambition and determination, evoking the delicate balance between aspiration and stability. Through this work of art, viewers are invited to reflect on their goals and the resilience needed to achieve them.
Day 1
The city of Lucca is absolutely stunning, full of history and charm. The people are incredibly kind. I am very grateful to the Biennale team for this wonderful opportunity. I arrived with a lot of stress, fatigue, and a mix of emotions that I was able to release when I began my work. The studio is a beautiful space, and the team in Lucca is amazing and very friendly, which makes me feel comfortable. Andrea, my assistant in the studio, is a great artist and I’m lucky to have him. Thank you all for your encouragement. This is just the beginning of the adventure.
Day 2
Progress is being made. I’m enjoying the great vibes in the studio. All the artists are focused, and friendships are beginning to form thanks to the dedication we share as creators. Ego is far away, and it’s just creators striving to outdo themselves to produce their best work
Day 3
We’ve all made progress and almost all the structures have arrived. Everyone is creating. The first weekend brings some well-deserved rest. Having shorter days changes the way I approach my creation. I add great intensity to my work, running against time all day. Usually, I work like a marathoner, thinking about conserving my energy for long-term work. But now, I’m running all day. This change of pace is more interesting but so different for me, yet it feels more like me. The cohesion among artists grows with each moment. There is something magical in the synergy that is developing, with people so different yet united by art and this creative passion. A well-deserved rest for the first weekend, it’s nice to get some fresh air.
Day 4
Here are the proportions taking shape. Since I stopped doing graffiti, I’ve never been so prolific in my creations. This change has unleashed a new energy within me, and I feel more productive and focused than ever. It’s incredible to see how proportions can evolve. Everyone around me is also very busy. There’s a tangible buzz, a collective dynamic where everyone is making progress in their respective projects. This stimulating atmosphere inspires us and encourages us to push even further in our own creative explorations. We’re moving forward together, each at our own pace, but always progressing towards new horizons.
Day 5
What a beautiful day! We focus on the road ahead, which is still long. There are two weeks left, and it’s becoming more and more interesting. Let’s stay in the pleasure, without pressure, to savor this fleeting moment. Each day brings new experiences and discoveries, and although the road can be arduous, every step brings us closer to our goal. It’s important to remember that the journey itself is a source of pleasure and learning. The key is to stay present and appreciate each moment, even the most fleeting ones.
Day 6
Here we are on day 6, almost a week in. This increases the pressure, with three more weeks to go. Fatigue is starting to become a new companion, and it’s not a very pleasant one. There’s a palpable tension in the studio. I’m progressing well, but there’s still so much to do. Every day, I’m told that I’m advancing well, and it’s true—I’ve condensed two weeks of work into one. However, my body reminds me of my age. The more I work on my squirrel, the more I feel that this hyperactive animal represents me. Fatigue makes it hard to reach my “zone.” My zone is that moment when the balance is perfect between me, my concentration, and my work, that moment when nothing else exists and the world disappears. It’s a magical moment, a deep addiction to pleasure where nothing else matters.
Day 7
fatigue is here, my legs are heavy, my body aches. But when I see Rosane Viegas next to me, who has difficulty walking but never complains, I am inspired. Nothing stops her. She has such a desire to create and such strength that we forget our own pains and get back to creating. We are all connected by this passion that drives us to surpass ourselves. And that is what we are doing: making great progress for most of the artists. Michael has just joined us, bringing new energy into the studio. It’s a very pleasant dynamism that blends with our group. Let’s not think about tomorrow, but celebrate the progress we’ve made today. As Vincent Van Gogh said, « I dream my painting and I paint my dream. » Here, we live our dreams and turn them into reality, despite the fatigue and challenges. Each day, we move forward a little more, driven by our shared passion. It is this passion that unites us and motivates us to push beyond our limits. This week has been a rollercoaster of highs and lows. My work is taking shape despite the errors, which will need to be corrected later. We must push forward without stopping; it’s not the time for corrections. Fatigue reveals everyone’s true nature, offering an intriguing psychological insight into the artist. The ego emerges, and as we push our limits, the masks fall off. I love these moments when we see who truly knows their inner self. An additional day in the studio has been added. My body cries for rest, but my spirit remains combative.nThese moments echo Nietzsche: « Become who you are. » In adversity, we discover our true nature. As Jung said, « He who looks outside, dreams; he who looks inside, awakes. » By pushing our limits, we explore unexpected facets of ourselves, turning each mistake into a step towards a deeper understanding of ourselves and our art.
Day 8
Already the 8th day, almost two weeks. The weekend was essential to feel my positivity returning, and it’s so pleasant. There has been major progress on the project: the body is being covered and you can see it taking shape. I will finish covering it tomorrow. I reached my limits last week, on Saturday; my body was damaged, empty, it was suffering, but it was worth it. I feel much more comfortable now. The workshop is very active, everyone is in their zone. A calm but productive day, the energy is back. I also managed to open my other works that arrived from Paris a few weeks ago. This work reminds me of the intense periods of creation by Rodin, where physical exhaustion accompanies immense artistic satisfaction. More images tomorrow.
Day 9
I was very anxious because I had to open a piece to correct it and have it ready for the biennale. The process took more than three hours, a precious time at the moment, but everything went relatively well. I had the opportunity to see part of the exhibition and share that moment with you before changing my mind. I don’t want to spoil the surprise, neither for you nor for myself, but I can promise that what I saw was worth it and adds extra pressure. I visited three rooms and decided to stop there because I want to be surprised when the exhibition is fully installed. Regarding the workshop, I made small progress on my part, but I believe I’ll advance better tomorrow. We are all on the right track; some works are almost installed. The workshop is like an anthill where everyone is busy with their creation. Alexander’s work is taking shape, and its scale is starting to reveal itself; it’s incredible. Michael has almost finished one of his two giant portraits. The biennale brings out a positive side of me that I haven’t seen in a long time. Focusing on the solution rather than the problem is doing me good. I appreciate having been able to resolve some communication issues between artists, which is really beneficial. I eagerly await tomorrow.
Day 10
Here we are, already halfway through the tenth day, and the biennale is stirring such strong emotions in me, it’s truly a pleasure. Today has been, I believe, the toughest day so far. Fear and pressure were ever-present. I have two exhibitions ongoing, and I had to finish repairing a piece that cost me time yesterday. It must be perfect. There was an issue with the squirrel: one arm didn’t fit right, and it was missing its head. Additionally, I had plans to have lunch with Rosane. Thank you for insisting on that meal. I decided to take the time to savor it, and at one point, my heart calmed. In that moment, all I could do was appreciate that meal, and it was precious. I had a great time with my friends. No matter what happens, we find solutions. The cardboard was too stiff; I softened it. The head was too high; I lowered it. The entire workshop is moving in this direction: the artist’s life is about finding solutions, adapting, turning a month into a masterpiece. Seeing my children and wife again was refreshing. Their presence is what truly matters.
Day 11
is divided into two half-days in the studio. My wife and children have arrived, and it feels incredibly good to see them. Their presence reminds me why I dedicate myself to this art, but it’s also a distraction that I’ll need to manage carefully. Every hour away from the studio is an hour that’s hard to make up. All the artists are feeling the fatigue, myself included. This fatigue makes us slower, our minds become foggy, and doubt sets in. We waste time on insignificant details. Yet tonight marks the start of the biennale, a major event in the contemporary art world. I have a strong desire to be there and participate in this celebration of creativity. The studio is closed this morning and is supposed to reopen this afternoon. This moment allows me to reflect on what it truly means to be an artist: a creative person in the broadest sense, someone who must adapt and find diverse solutions to the problems encountered throughout life. This reflection makes me realize that sometimes the best solution is to take a step back and rest. Right now, the most important thing is to be rested and ready for tonight. After all, art is not only nourished by hard work but also by moments of relaxation and reflection. I will stop by to organize my space in the studio; I can always work this weekend to make up for lost time. The next post will be dedicated to the biennale. Get ready to discover this exceptional event.
Day 12
The opening of the Biennale. Everything starts with the speeches. You can feel the tension among all the artists, from the biggest names to the smallest. Even Alexander, usually so impassive, shows signs of stress. Chantal finishes writing her text, Michael rereads his. The tension is rising. As usual, I don’t really prepare a speech because I know it won’t come out the way I want it to and that my work represents me as an artist. But what’s most important now isn’t my work, it’s the rest—what this experience has made me feel. Italy, the Biennale, the race against time, have forced me to appreciate this moment and see the beauty of the present. It’s a look back at my past, an acceptance of who I am, of that child who fought to grow up, who dreamed of America, who now lives there. Of someone who shouldn’t have had anything but now has everything. I left school at 15, had my first exhibition with my father at 16, my first solo show at 21. I left Lyon for Paris at 27, then moved to America at 37. I have three children who look at me with wide eyes, a wife who would follow me to the ends of the earth. But over time, I focused on my pain, on my lacks, this feeling of loneliness. The Biennale allowed me to look back and focus on this moment, the present. The exhibition, what to say? Go see it. I can’t talk about the works because art is subjective, but I continue with the sentiment. You feel the love, the unity, the desire to do well. Here are some images that will let you discover the beauty of the Biennale. I was able to rediscover the beauty of my own works. It is an honor to be here. I’ve seen the work put in place over the last 15 days, the passion of these people with whom we have and will share our time. Thank you to everyone who made this event what it is. Thank you. We must not forget that we are not finished and that the hardest part is yet to come. Thank you Federica and Emiliano and Giacomo and the whole team for this wonderful work. Here are some beautiful photos that a reel cannot fully express. I wanted to share them with you because they represent the beauty and the ephemerality of time – a moment that has passed and will never return. Time passes, photos remain, and they will continue to remind us of these fleeting moments. These images testify to the fleeting nature of life and the value of the precious moments we experience. They capture not only the beauty of the moment but also the emotion and magic of these unique instances. As Susan Sontag so aptly put it, “To photograph is to touch someone — through space and time.” By sharing these photos, it’s a poignant reminder that every moment is precious and deserves to be cherished. These memories, frozen in time, remind us to live each moment fully and appreciate the beauty that surrounds us. At the workshop. The pressure is high, and we have already received our reward. We need to finish now. It’s getting hotter, and the fatigue is always there, more present than ever. Tomorrow, we will have a meeting to determine which artwork will be installed first and who will get a bit more time. The workshops will be open on the weekends, from what I understand. It’s the final sprint. The body and mind will suffer. The whole workshop is progressing well, even the most complex pieces are taking shape. It’s incredible to see these creations materialize. There are more and more people in the workshop, creating noise and movement, requiring headphones to concentrate. I am at a point where I get frustrated more quickly because I am progressing slowly. As I am working on a hand, which is small compared to the body, the details take a lot of time. I’ve just started the head. I’m not used to working at such a pace, so I’ve had to change my way of working, but it seems to be working well, I think. What do you think? I am using a mix of techniques, half silhouette, half strips. I thought about my shapes and how to realize them on Sunday afternoon. It took me a few days to understand how to approach the forms. My son and wife came to the workshop, bringing a breath of fresh air. I love seeing how a child looks at art with purity and simplicity. This experience reminds me of the challenges faced by great artists such as Michelangelo when creating the Sistine Chapel, where pressure and difficult physical conditions were constant. The ability to maintain concentration and adapt to new working methods is essential. As Auguste Rodin said, “Art is a struggle. One must make tireless efforts.” Despite the obstacles, the progress of the works reminds us of Pablo Picasso’s quote: “Every act of creation is first an act of destruction.” We destroy our old methods and beliefs to allow new forms and ideas to be born.
Day 13
The 13th did not bring us luck. The squirrel is taking shape, but there’s still so much to do. Everything is started, and nothing is finished. The head is coming along, but I’m not sure I’ll have enough time to choose the right expression. I need to finish the legs, feet, hands, and body. One arm is off, the head is getting there, and the acorn isn’t done. I’m worried because I just found out that the first works will be sent out starting next Tuesday. That leaves only 7 days, or a maximum of 59 hours. The reaction in the workshop is interesting because some works are finished or nearly finished, while others need more time. As for me, I’ll have to rush, but it’s important to stay clear-headed and make the right decisions because time is critical. Pressure could lead to bad decisions. The atmosphere in the workshop is complicated, and it’s hard to stay positive when you feel like you can’t find the solutions. Additionally, I had a strange thought that obsessed me for the rest of the day. It was one of those intrusive thoughts that come out of nowhere, planting seeds of doubt and uncertainty. But, well, tomorrow is another day. I will go to the dump to look for colored cardboard, hoping to find some that aren’t too dirty. Anyway, thank you, Davis, for the idea because I was starting to get scared. The importance of materials in sculpture cannot be underestimated, and every detail matters to do justice to the piece. Tomorrow is Day 14, a new day. I will know how much time I have left to finish and should have the color. I’d like to finish the head. Fingers crossed. Sometimes you just have to trust the creative process and remember why you started this artistic journey
Day 14
Tomorrow, we will find out which artist finishes first and gets the chance to spend more time in the studio. The suspense is at its peak. Emotions are running high, but we are having a great time together. The studio is united; everyone works at their own pace and progresses. We need to finish, and I must accept not advancing quickly. I’ve started applying color; it’s beginning to look like me. I paused because I prefer to apply color to the head, feet, and hands in the evening, and prioritize the body during the day. But tonight, it’s rest. Back at the residence, I’ll finish the leg tomorrow and start applying color. Modifying my arm took more time than expected (four hours), and I haven’t finished yet. The movement has changed; it now evokes a dancer, which suits me because it adds movement. Tomorrow, I’ll finish the arm; it should go faster. Time, always time. I collect colors every two days, I have 15%. I have options, but in small quantities. My wooden board is here, I can position the foot. The progress of my work in the studio forces me to accept a different pace from the beginning. This experience recalls the teachings of Paul Cézanne, who said: “Time and reflection change the sight little by little till we come to understand.” Like him, I must understand that each step, even the slowest, contributes to the depth and richness of the final work. The movement of my arm evoking a dancer aligns with the tradition of artists who sought to capture movement and grace, like Edgar Degas in his depictions of dancers. This unexpected evolution adds a dynamic dimension to my work, enriching the visual narrative. Finally, managing my color resources reminds me of the challenges faced by Renaissance artists, who often had to be creative with limited materials. This constraint forces me to be more inventive and to make the most of each hue. In conclusion, every challenge encountered in this studio is an opportunity for learning and artistic growth. As Vincent van Gogh said: “I never get tired of the difficulties, because I tackle them with more courage each time I get up again.
Day 15
I have six days left. It’s going to be a race to the finish, without respite. I have 4 to 5 days to finish the legs, hands, head, and cover the body with color. I have a precise schedule: finish the arms and head tomorrow, and start working a bit at night. I can work on any part and on Friday, put in place the head and the rest, then do the finishing touches. However, I’m running out of color. I’ve already finished my stock, and if I don’t have enough, I won’t be able to finish the piece. I don’t have much time to look for more. I gather some every week when I see it, but I need more. I feel a bit relieved to have a fixed date. Tomorrow, we’ll start feeling the pressure, and it will keep increasing. We did the interviews, and I don’t know how they’ll turn out. Fatigue is present in all of us, it shows on our faces. I feel my age more and more. Mornings are difficult; my hands, arms, my whole body hurts. Fatigue affects morale, but fortunately, the life shared with others is beneficial. Morning coffee is important to me. It’s our only time together, those 20 minutes we all share, and a bit in the evening, as everyone follows their own rhythm and we cross paths. I will finish my work on the 11th and have to leave the residence on the 12th. I’m sad because most of the flights I find are at 8 or 9 in the morning. It’s going to be hard to leave like that. I wanted to take a quiet day to enjoy the city one last time and spend a relaxing evening with the remaining artists. The physical pains I feel, especially in the morning, remind me of the sacrifices many artists have made. Michelangelo, for example, suffered immensely during the creation of the Sistine Chapel. Like him, I must persevere despite the pain, knowing that the final result will be worth it. Finally, the morning coffee shared with the other artists has become a precious moment. It reminds me of the camaraderie between the Impressionists like Claude Monet and Pierre-Auguste Renoir, who found comfort in their daily interactions. Every challenge faced in this studio is an opportunity for learning and artistic growth. As Henri Matisse said, “Creativity takes courage.”
Day 16
There are only five days left. Today has been the worst day. The pain is present, the fatigue is overwhelming, and my positivity is far away. We have coffee, chat, and laugh, but there are only three and a half of us. Chantale passed by in a hurry. We arrive at the studio, I work but I am exhausted. I feel every joint in my body creaking. At one point, I have to explain that if I don’t have color, I won’t be able to finish on time. This thought affects me more and more. The studio no longer resembles what it was. Michael is no longer himself, he doesn’t smile and his voice has changed. Alexander’s face no longer has the same expression, his body is more rigid, he no longer radiates the same energy. You can feel the stress and irritation, it is stormy in the studio. David comes and informs me that there is no more cardboard and that we are not authorized to go to the city dump to get some. I say nothing and decide to go for a walk to look for cardboard. After five minutes of walking, Davis calls me and asks me to come back quickly because he has an idea where to find colored cardboard. We go on a quest. First place, nothing. We try a waste disposal site, but it’s another story. When we return from the waste disposal site, the tension has disappeared. The artists are more relaxed. Michael has become the happy man again, Alexander starts to smile again, and the studio is more relaxed. I sort my cardboard and discard 30 to 40%, but I have enough to work this weekend. However, more will be needed. I learn that a dispute broke out among the Brazilians. It had to happen; the pressure and tensions do not bring out the best in us, but the worst is over. The studio relaxes. I work and see Alexander take Michael’s bike and start doing laps in the studio. These are the magical moments that make everyone happy. Seeing him do bike laps relaxed us. These moments are what we miss, and I appreciate them greatly. Thank you, David. Your support is invaluable right now. The thought of not being able to obtain the necessary colors torments me. All the efforts I’ve put in so far... This pain is overwhelming. My body is in survival mode, my spirit in tears. I continue to work, but it’s become too difficult. David tells me that we do not have permission to go to the city dump. At that moment, my world collapses around me. In my head, I hear the voices of those who have supported me from the beginning, even though they are not physically present. Their encouragement pushes me not to give up. I gather my things and leave the studio. The pain is unbearable, my strength is leaving me, I cry. The medication has not yet taken effect, I suffer. I need to walk. While searching for a supermarket, I find some cartons on the way. My phone rings. It’s David, asking me to return urgently. We head to a large store where we have permission to collect cartons, but unfortunately, none are colored. David is determined to find a solution. We make several stops along the way, to no avail. However, the walk in Tuscany is beautiful, reminding me of the south of France. For a moment, I forget about the studio. David’s willingness to help me is a comfort, thank you David. We finally arrive at a recycling center, but we lack certain authorizations. I stand in front of a gate, watching trucks unload enormous quantities of cartons. After an hour and several calls in Italian, we finally get the necessary permission. We put on helmets, goggles, orange vests, and safety shoes. The smell is strong, but we finally find some cartons. The first truck contains a bit of colored carton, the second has none. About to leave, we are told that another truck might have what we are looking for. I grab all I can, load it into our van, and we head back. Upon returning, I take the time to sort through the cartons. I discard about 30 to 40% of the recovered material, but I can finally get back to work. I’ve lost half a day, but I’ve made significant progress. However, I will need more materials.
Day 17
We are making good progress, but the fatigue is palpable among all the artists, even the most experienced ones. It’s Saturday, and the studio is open until Friday. My sensitivity is raw, and even a gust of wind causes pain. Emotions, both positive and negative, are amplified. Tears come easily. One of us is not doing well, and it might give him the right to leave, but we are artists and we must finish. The studio is in a complex emotional state, but everyone supports each other as much as they can. Our works demand enormous efforts, often at the expense of our personal lives. I eat with a small group in the evening; we are usually three. When we return, two groups form: those who work in the evening and those who rest. It’s been a long time since we’ve had large gatherings, but tonight it was important to come together. The day had been very emotional, too much due to fatigue and mental load. Eating together seems more important than ever. In the evening, ice cream comforts us, and in the morning, it’s coffee. The rest of the time, it’s relentless work. Our works are taking magnificent shape. We are a group of people from all over the world, with different sensitivities, pushing each other in turn, like a family. We are exhausted, but driven by an inner strength. Together, we are pushing our limits, united by this common quest. We know it will be worth it.
Day 18
It’s Sunday. Tick-tock, tick-tock, time passes, but the work remains unfinished. The artists are suffering. We are nearing the end, and everyone’s resilience is showing. Most will finish, most have completed their works alone, but we all accepted projects that were a bit too ambitious, and we are all suffering because of it. The week is going to be tough. Our bodies are tired, our minds are wandering. I forgot my keys at the studio yesterday. Fatigue is omnipresent. The tendons in my arms won’t relax. Sleep is complicated. We are obsessed with the idea of finishing. Some, more experienced, have adopted an alternating sleep schedule: one hour of sleep in the evening after returning, a quick meal, then back to work for four hours. Then six hours of sleep, and a new day begins. We suffer, but we feel alive. In five days, it will be over. We make the most of our time together. I am happy because most are making the effort, and it becomes a necessity. Suffering brings us closer, and we live this adventure together. The solidarity among us grows. At 11 a.m., I ran out of glue. A kind soul gave me some. I changed my project to use less. At the end of the day, I gave what I wasn’t going to use to another artist. My sculpture is progressing well,. I miss my studio.
Day 19
I wake up at 5:45, the seagulls rouse me from sleep as they do every morning. By 7 a.m., I've had a quick shower and done an hour and a half of work. After a coffee, I head to the studio. Today, I feel good, full of energy. However, a few material issues arise, making me less inclined to share. The pace is intense. I finish the left arm and hand of my sculpture, then reposition the right hand. The studio is buzzing, everyone is busy. The works are progressing, but the finishing touches take time. Some of us are more perfectionist than others. The day is excellent, the energy is palpable. I'm taking advantage of it. We share our last moments together, each adding the final touches to our creations. The atmosphere is both frenetic and joyful, full of camaraderie and mutual support. Each of us, in our own space but together, experiences these intense moments with passion and determination.
Day 20
I woke up at 3:45 AM with intense pain in my arm, elbow, and bicep, making it difficult to get back to sleep. The pleasure of the previous day comes at a heavy price. My spirits are lower today. I am working on the finishing touches. I attached the head by myself. As the day progresses, I realize more and more that I won’t finish as I want to. I’m short a few hours to get closer to creating a masterpiece. If I rush tomorrow, I will finish, but not as I wish. I won’t have the finishing touches I desire. It hurts, but I must not dwell on it. The workshop is chaotic. There is noise, welding, cutting, sparks, and smoke filling the space. Michael has completed his piece and it leaves tomorrow. Katarzyna is also leaving. One by one, it will be our turn. We are enjoying our last night together. The first departures will be early in the morning; Thaise will leave, and I will miss her. Thank you for sharing this adventure with us. My turn will come tomorrow, and on Saturday, I will leave as well. But first, I need to finish. I also need to find a place to stay for my last night because I want to spend one more night here with the remaining artists. See you tomorrow.
Day 21
My body is speaking to me, and it’s saying I need to stop. My left leg is struggling, my right arm is in pain, and my hands are bruised. I’ve fought against myself all day to keep going, but I am making progress. I’m exhausted. The slightest positive emotion brings tears to my eyes, and everything at the studio is heightened emotion. You can feel the stress of those who are leaving and those who are rushing to finish. I haven’t given up; I’ve given everything and more. I’m going to finish my sculpture. I retouched the hands before starting on the tail. My ray of sunshine has been the three little volunteers who came to help and did an amazing job. They applied glue around all the cardboard parts. Thank you to all three of them. One of my musketeers left this morning. Tomorrow is my last day. I asked for more time and managed to get an extra day for nine additional hours of work. I must thank Rosane, who swapped places with me, allowing me to gain this precious time. I can feel the heavy weight of fatigue on my body. Every movement is an effort, every thought a struggle. Yet, the energy emanating from the studio is palpable. The bonds we’ve forged are now stronger than ever, reinforced by our collective pain and triumph. As I prepare for my last day, I’m filled with a mix of sadness and gratitude. Sadness to see this experience coming to an end, but gratitude for the moments shared, the challenges overcome, and the friendships made. Tomorrow, I’ll give everything I have left, hoping to leave behind a piece that testifies to our resilience and passion. The photos of the first works are magnificent. Thank you, Michael and Katarzyna Łyszkowska. Some days are harder than others. In adversity, we become more grateful when the light breaks through. Thank you, Rosane, and thank you because I now know where my last night in Lucca will be. I’ll tell you all about it in a few days.
Day 22
The day has been intense. I arrived thinking I had a full day ahead of me, but I was told I had to leave by 2 PM and finalize my piece before then. I didn’t stop to question it—I just ran. This is the final stretch, and I won’t give up. I push myself as hard as I can because I have nothing to lose. I dive into my pile of cardboard, searching frantically for the colors I need. My three angels arrive, faithfully by my side, and with their help, I finish the tail. I take the time to add small details, like the names of my children and my wife, personal touches that make the piece even more meaningful to me. In the morning, there were five of us in the workshop, but by evening, only three remain. It’s strange; the workshop feels suddenly empty and quiet despite the constant noise of tools and the ongoing movement. Tomorrow, I have a maximum of three hours left to finish my squirrel. The pressure is intense, but I know I can do it. Last night, the workshop stayed open for an additional two hours. I took an hour to get a new tattoo—Berber symbols in honor of my grandfather, a reminder of the roots and values that have shaped me. Then, I returned to the workshop to continue working on my piece. It was hard, each movement demanding immense effort, but I’m nearly finished. All that remains is the acorn, which I’ll complete tomorrow, and perhaps another day for the final touches. As I prepare for this ultimate day, I feel a mix of excitement and melancholy. Excitement at the prospect of seeing my work finally completed, and melancholy at the thought of this journey coming to an end. Every moment spent here, every effort, every smile exchanged with my fellow artists, has been precious. Tomorrow, I will give everything I have left, hoping to leave behind a piece that speaks to our resilience and passion.
Day 23
There are only three of us left in the workshop. I finished my squirrel sculpture yesterday, and today I’m working on the final touches, sealing the sculpture and adding the acorn, for which I need some help. This is the moment when I add personal messages, making the work even more intimate. The names of my children, my wife, and my friends who have supported me through this journey are now part of the piece, capturing this moment in time. My two little angels came to see the sculpture before it left for its exhibition site. I asked them to add their initials to it. As they left, they asked me to sign their T-shirts, like a rock star. Thank you, Céleste and Sara. The workshop is buzzing with activity. Alexander is making progress, finalizing the fixings for his piece. Chantal and Regina are receiving help. The workshop resembles a mix between a ballet and a beehive: gluing, painting, and Giano coming to life. It’s a moment of joy. John is finally leaving the workshop. We load him onto the transport cart, tilt him to get him out, and we’re off to the Palazzo Guinigi. It feels like we’re part of a parade. He dances through the streets of Lucca and settles into the gardens. I realize what I’ve accomplished over these 23 days: a giant squirrel nearly 4 meters tall and 5 meters long, a monumental task requiring 200 hours of work. There are moments of emotion and photos, and then I go back to help transport Giano to his installation site. I am overwhelmed with gratitude as I reflect on the incredible experience at the Biennale of Lucca. The magnificent evening we shared with the artists and the residents of Lucca was nothing short of magical. People often say that Tuscany has a wonderful hospitality, but it’s truly the love that one feels here that stands out. Love is very important to me because it’s akin to the warmth and comfort of home, of family. Even though I don’t speak the language, I find that my hands, my gaze, and my smile communicate perfectly. This love and warmth reminded me of the importance of art in connecting people beyond words. Art, like love, transcends boundaries and unites us in a shared human experience. It’s the universal language that speaks to our hearts and souls. Thank you, Lucca, for welcoming us with open arms and hearts. Your hospitality and love have left an indelible mark on us. The Biennale of Lucca has not only showcased remarkable art but also highlighted the beauty of human connection. This experience has been a testament to the power of art and love in bridging cultures and bringing people together.
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