Thursday 21 April 2011

About Face




Paint by Laura Tedeschi










Tuesday 19 April 2011

The silence of noise, the most terrible loneliness






Painting by Laura Tedeschi


Unfortunate Milan's children, so fragile, so unhappy,
unfortunate Milan's children, also robbed of hope,
sad Milan's children, with handkerchiefs as gardens,

unfortunate Milan's children with the horizon always covered,
thirst for freedom forced to live in the desert.
unfortunate Milan's children with the most terrible loneliness,
the silence of the noise.
Unfortunate Milan's children, children of worrying fathers

Unfortunate Milan's children, how many minutes,
travelers of fixed destinations, spectators always sit ...

from: "Poveri bimbi di MIlano" Francesco Guccini













Thursday 14 April 2011

Escape from the ordinary prison



Dream, dream, dream
and dream of the mice that eat cats
or robins eating hawks and then ...

steal the wind to a kite
crying for no reason
strong run like mad
barefoot on the rocks

live now and not tomorrow
such as gypsies on the lawn
drinking the rain from the hands ...
timeless ... 


Work by Gianni Tedeschi - 1967







Shots by Laura Tedeschi - 2010-2011















Monday 11 April 2011

I Will Give You a Rose


Painting by Laura Tedeschi




I will give you a rose
A red rose to paint everything
A rose to comfort your each and every tear
And a rose to show you my love
I will give you a rose
A white rose as if you were my wife
A white rose to help you forget
Each little pain
My name is Antonio and I’m mad
I was born in 1954 and I’ve lived here since I was a baby
I believed I could talk with the devil
So they closed me in a mental home for forty years
I’m writing you this letter because I don’t know how to talk
Forgive the handwriting of a school child
And I’m astonished I’m still feeling emotions
But it’s the fault of my hand that won’t stop shaking
I’m like a piano with a broken key
The dissonant chord of an orchestra of drunks
Day and night seem the same
In the dim light the pierces the opaque glass
I’m still pissing myself because I’m afraid
To the sane, we have always been rubbish
Smelling of piss and sawdust
This is mental illness and there is no cure
I will give you a rose
A red rose to paint everything
A rose to comfort your each and every tear
And a rose to show you my love
I will give you a rose
A white rose as if you were my wife
A white rose to help you forget
Each little pain
Mad people are like question marks with no sentences
Thousands of spaceships that never return home
They are snowmen spread out under the sun
Mad people are messengers of a God that doesn’t want them
I build snow for myself out of polystyrene
My illness is that I’ve been left alone
Now take a telescope and measure the distance
Look between me and you – who is more dangerous?
We loved each other secretly in a hospital ward
Finding a corner that would be ours alone
I remember the few moments when we felt alive
Not like the medical records crammed in the archives
Of all my memories, you’ll be the last to disappear
You were like an angel tied to a radiator
In spite of everything I’m still waiting for you
And when I close my eyes I feel your hands caressing me
I will give you a rose
A red rose to paint everything
A rose to comfort your each and every tear
And a rose to show you my love
I will give you a rose
A white rose as if you were my wife
A white rose to help you forget
Each little pain
My name is Antonio and I’m on the roof
Dear Margherita, I’ve waited for you for 20 years
We go mad when no one understands us
Also when your best friend betrays you
I leave you this letter, now I must go
Forgive the handwriting of a school child
Are you astonished I’m still feeling something?
Surprise yourself again because Antonio knows how to fly

Simone Cristicchi


Monday 4 April 2011

Hope and life's dreams




Painting by Laura Tedeschi



Painting by Laura Tedeschi


And now we are living in half season,


crushed and hurt for days in agony and despair,
where we turn the world without history,
seeking only a moment sincere
with the unconscious desire to get deeper
to be more true.

from "Le pioggie d'aprile - April's rains" Francesco Guccini