I started stitching in a room of my country’s oratory, under the light of a smile.

I engaged in embroidery as a personal challenge and for its calming effect, due to the accurate and repetitive movement. It contributed to create my personal sense of beauty.

During the school age I fancied to spend more time to devote to embroidery, but then I did not find a personal and shared motivation to choose to dedicate myself exclusively to it. I therefore engaged in scientific and naturalistic studies.

As many mothers may tell, in the solitude of motherhood, despite the sleepless nights, I began to embroider with a curious obsession, probably to hold my nerves and perhaps to make tangible, in the slow but concrete progression of an embroidery, the time that had furiously started to slide, in that alienating static repetitiveness of a mother’s day at home. Although obviously spiced with a great love, motherhood had deleted planning and personal perspective.

One day I found the courage to beak through a corner of my cave and open a window: at the light of the PC screen I started writing my blog.

Born as a showcase, in a breath it became something else…

Tha habit to illustrate each embroidery with photos and words molded my character. Indolence turned into confidence, insecurity into critical thinking. Above all, it artfully combined my knowledges, which at the time I considered fragmentary and inconclusive and never leading to anything.

Genuary 2020

Aware that its meaning changes over time, today embroidery is mainly communication, for me.

With myself, in an endless inner dialogue during the hours of silence, with my conflicts, my desires and the need to find solutions and incubate ideas. With women and men scattered all over the world, who love embroidery because they share my story or for the endless reasons that lead to devote themselves to an art. With women who want to learn embroidery and find, with it, a social occasion for sharing the difficulties of life. With enthusiastic little girls in summer, who steadly embroider to turn sterile materials into art with their fingers, with the hope that some of them will remember my smile as I remember the one of my guide, in an endless cycle of transmission of knowledge and skills that evolution has struggled to give us and that we have the moral duty to pass on, not necessarily for its material result, but as the baggage of an experience which allows us to progress.

The needlework growing through our hands has an evocative power that puts us in communication with the lost past and with the memories we cherish and that, if presented, tells the love of a devoted time. Inspires and cheers, or awakens our senses.

I think to embroidery as one of the many languages ​​we have to communicate and share our stories. I found the courage to use embroidery to tell myself and I realized that I was on the right track when I saw light up eye and a new interest stirred.

Is it not a suddenly aroused surge of curiosity or passion to make us feel alive and in communion with the world?

To each his own language, among the infinite possibilities, to share armony with each other.

To be chosen, embroidery must be known.