Come Here is a good way to define our attitude toward art: the work of art never stops whispering, stops calling; its presence is eternal. The Catholic religion often speaks of the auricular conception and birth of Jesus Christ: the angel whispers in Mary’s ear the announcement of the Messiah: the verb made flesh, the link between word and object, between cause and effect, the link that underlies truth.

In Hebrew, the root amanאמן means confidence, firmness, determination, stability, pillar and at the same time art, as well as amen, formula of immediacy – in a second – and conclusion, the same thing that happens with Here, as if a long finger is ready to point. In Proust and also in The Other Side by Kubin, the bell tower is a long finger, the finger of God. The whisper invokes, and the invoking involves calling and at the same time that what is invoked is the fruit of trust. A trust in something stable and hidden, inexpressible and therefore something that can only be revealed or expressed through art, that is, through this circle of words and shapes that form a halo, quite reverent and strong with this Here.

At the heart of our work is this trust that is linked to the invisible, the hidden, the profound, to that which seems abstract because it is waiting for a name, and which requires an act of trust in order to be seen. In the past, the figure of the blind man has been used to represent the one who no longer needs to see matter, and therefore eyes, because he is already beyond it; his eyes ignore the material world so that the supernatural and the universal can emerge. The blind man of Derrida or, on the contrary, Proteus, who sees the future in the deep darkness of the water.

The message transmitted from ear to ear creates a dynamic that leads the user to become creator and maker, mixing roles and creating an exchange that guarantees transmission, goes beyond repetition and finds its completion in transformation.

The eternity of an experience, whatever it is (physical, material, emotional, intellectual), is measured by its capacity to be an eternal breeding ground for discovery and knowledge.

How can you recognize something eternal? What are the characteristics that transmit eternity into our world? What makes a work of art art? What makes it independent and different from those who create it?

In a note on Joyce’s Ulysses, Giulio De Angelis writes: “But the secret key of the episode [The Beach] is perhaps to be found in its last part, where the artist’s dream takes shape: to escape the nightmare of history, the flow of time, by creating and contemplating a self-contained, objectively perfect work of art.”

In our work we try to go beyond history, making analogy and abstraction our basic tools, which have their preferred material in books and fabrics. Starting from an element like the texts that focus on evocation, that are a skeleton to which the reader applies creativity, we can trigger communication, approach and say: come here. Our goal is to create an image for the invisible or to say how to remember it. The choice of fabric has two reasons: the first and most immediate is that writing and fabric have common terms to explain their nature and functioning, they share the lexicon. The second reason is to be found in the world of symbols, more precisely in the relationship between space and time. The fabric represents the non-permanent dwellings, the tents of the nomadic peoples who change the place where they live and move little by little. The texts are also characterized by the fact that they are enjoyed in sequence, word by word. The writing and the fabric are made for movement, the work of art is made to move away from those who created it and to lose the moment in which it was created and lasting forever.