A small thing

I am captured by small things.

I love to loose myself in the details; my eyes love drowning in the ‘small’, it is full of surprises and new worlds to explore, and rarely disappoints me.

I have this tendency in the daily life: sometimes, just waiting for the green light at a crossroad, I look distractedly at the ditches, until I find that single flower, which seems standing there for me. These petals are not like all the others, they only speak to me.

Or in front of a big painting, after a quick look at the whole of it, I often find myself standing in front of a part of it, looking at a small detail, like a fold of a fabric or the shadow of the eyelid, one curl of the hair. It tells me about the painter, his or her energy, I can see he or she insisting in this little space of a big canvass, as this little spot means everything.

The same emotion raises in me when drawing a portrait.

When I start it with a single line, I know not a lot of lines together will make the miracle of somebody looking at me. At some point, there will be a single charcoal stroke or nuance or a thickened line that will catch that soul, and I will know it is ready. It is a thrilling moment and the same moving energy of when I am discovering a small secret of the world.

Every single stroke, one after the other, until you mark the magnetic one, full of strength and power. A sparkle of life on a paper.