Return Indietro                                            Chronicle Creativa 2004

Friday May 29th  hr. 9pm

Like every year, the participants to Creativa start to arrive on the day before the event. So on the Friday evening while with Claudio, Patrizia and Emanuele we were preparing the show "Safety Exit", with over 130 artists participants and almost 150 works to be exposed, we have seen entering Alberto Vitacchio and Carla Bertola who came from Turin, to make a performance, to know us and to show "Offerta Speciale", a magazine of visual poetry among the most important of the world. Once again, we shared together names, techniques, messages. Their long activity has brought them around the world to meet the various authors active in the field of sound, visual and linear poetry. Meanwhile the panels were filled with sheets of works and the postcards drawn, colored and written, arrived from many nations. Friends that every year answer to the call with intelligence, creativeness and irony. But despite the pleasure of the discussion, the hour is getting late, while the things to be decided are still a lot of. The program has to be compiled, that jam of roughly sketched schedules and names, that can help to give to each participant a little calm - ouch, ouch, what pains if someone has not been marked! - And it happens, oh, it happens! Especially in a meeting like this of Creativa based on free participation! And us, pen to the hand, ready to find a remedy.

Saturday May 29th 

In the morning when I arrive, Claudio is already melted by the overwork, the stage, the lights, the sound system, the tables, the panels, the artists with theirs personal requests and me that unfortunately, because of my problems, I cannot be always present to help him to satisfy them. And they are already many going around studying the environment, to understand where to settle. I meet Francesco Mandrino, gasping and sweaty with some sheets and two sculptures in iron in his hands, about to conduct a lesson of poetry with the boys of the middle school. It is the time! I meet the teacher Mrs. Mannucci, we go up in the great classroom, there Mandrino in front of the school boys begins his lesson with a reading and explanation of "The Saturday of the Village" by Leopardi. It looks like a normal lesson at first, then it changes register and he succeeds in involving all the boys with a series of associations of words that we will discover afterwards belonging to one of his poems. My time has expired. While I descend the stairs I meet Giancarlo Pucci from Fano, he had to come two years ago, then for various problems… here he is with that broad face always seen in his postcards, introducing his wife and Fulgor Silvi, another of my pen friends for many years! We agree on inserting him in the programme. As I said before about the programme… I had completely forgotten about Silvi’s performance. But the problem is easily resolved! In the room another creature from a nice face smiles me and asks me who I am. Obscurity! Who is he? I throw a name and naturally I make a mistake. It is the art critic Maurizio Vitiello from Naples , this morning he had phoned me to tell me that the evening before he had arrived and everything was in order. Painter Maria Pia Daidone has come with him to expose three small "Outlines" painted on wood. We go to the corridor to find a setup, we move tables, panels and a new space is finally created for her works, where also Mandrino settles two iron sculptures and gives me the poem "Lapida" dedicated to me. I must return home, Patrizia and Claudio help me climb on the car and here we spot arriving Flavio Casella and Stefania Corrocher, a quick embrace after one year and so many e-mails, and a recommendation… the time-table! At home I receive a phone call from Anna Boschi, after many detours they have reached Rignano, but they don't know where to go. Some girls from Bologna also phoned, but I was not there. With Patrizia I prepare all the materials to bring with me: computer, video, books, catalogs. Then off we go, quickly to the school. I have hardly arrived and I find already many people there, that have come from the most different places. And again we salute, embrace, exchange confused words, passages of sentences that however recreate in the head that thread of commune affiliation, the desire to be together in the middle of this creative energy. No! I don't remember the sequence of the meetings, but only the joy to meet again or to finally see him or her in face for the first time. 
As with Edoardo, who came from France to bring one homage/regard of I. Bonus to Creativa, and who has been enthusiastic of this friendly climate. Or friends that had heard about the festival, and here they are. A regard, a smile, an embrace just as a community that is found again. And naturally as for any communities there are the inevitable polemics, the personal problems, and... And I, supported by Claudio, ask with a smile to leave them slip away . We are late, we finally enter the room. All sit down. Claudio makes a rapid presentation of Creativa. Lucia Bencistà, councillor to the culture for the municipality, thanks and greets the present artists, inaugurating the festival. And to know us, an appeal and an applause. We also read the letters of G. Umiliacchi and Paolo Conti absent for problems of health and sorry for not being able to be with us. We open with an introduction from Vitiello, simple and exhaustive on the idea of the meeting, from the virtual to the physical here at the center of Italy . And the boat sails on the blue cloth of the Stradada, while a windmill of movements and surprises go out from under: a long orange plush thing, a multicolored run, suitcases of dreams. We move out and Emanuele Gagliano carries us with his poetry on the hard existence of the worker in the factory but also in the joys of the common struggles against the war. Casella in collaboration with Corrocher reads his short story "The mechanical book". Two friends mail artists, Monica Michelotti and Còbas, have also arrived from Carrara , they immediately feel enthusiastic of this situation. Anna Boschi gets ready for her performance "Reflections" positioning in front of the stage a series of cloths in white and black, she wears a white mask and opens one by one a series of gauzes with words like Peace, Tolerance… and gives them to the standing artists with in hand a small plate, turns on the recorder that diffuses the words by Neruda "my life is a life made of all the lives" while she despaires. The mask is lifted and she gives to me the cloth with the word peace. Meanwhile Baraldi and his friend sculptor Santambrogio have exposed the book with the cover in iron and the serigraphies made with liqueurs. Gilberto Gavioli, on the table nearby, displays all the magazines and the books from "Il foglio Clandestino", it is quite a sight this assemblage of authentic selfproductions. We enter the room, Stefania Corrocher in collaboration with Casella interpret the story "Can-diti sott'odio", she is behind a screen made of sheets of newspaper, moving like a Chinese shade speaking of her condition of self-secluded, sat in front of a table Casella tells us of the dark backstage events. We return out in the violent light where Fulgor Silvi is preparing his performance sat before a little table with four turned on transistor radios, he draws out of a box a painted overall in colourful squares and he wears it, from jars of varnish he throws out some rolls of gauze that put again together recreate the human form. He throws down the transistor radios, shut them off, puts them away and after removing his overall he cuts it in small pieces that are given around as presents in a ritual of liberation. Héctor Tierno takes the microphone and with his kind voice read the poem “Messages”.
Claudio Fusai is ready on the stage, he straps on his guitar and sings "When you take conscience" while Irene, with bandaged eyes, interpret it dancing. Then from the last CD "Intifada", he sings " Assisi " of which I have written the text. Irene brings a manikin in front of the stage and when Claudio begins "Masters of the war", bombs explode - toy balloons full of red temper - and it twists as struck by many bullets, the whole overall stained in red. Some students of the early-morning poetry lesson are present, among these a girl that had written a particularly sensitive one, so Mandrino reads it. We reenter all inside, Pucci is ready, with the help of his wife Rossella, he begins his series of performances, "The work of art I am me", "Artist's Egg", " Partorirarte ", with colored disguises, mechanisms, apparatuses and painted objects among general laughters for that ironic way of his to make fun of the references to the art world. It is time now of Eugenia Serafini with "The fisherman of dreams", wearing a tunic she reads this story of a woman of the South, of all the women of the South forced to emigrate. At every passage she gives a lighted candle to someone in the audience and at the end all those that have a candle rise and embrace her. We have to go out, in the corner at the bottom of the square a half arc of chairs has already delimited the space, three girls dressed in red are moving to the sound of oriental melodies giving us a feeling of deep harmony. And it is only a parenthesis because inside Vitacchio and Bertola, covered by silvery suits and various colourful gadgets, are ready with their performance "Ladies & Gentlemen", a delicious parody of beauty cares for the body, with a big job of pre-recorded voices. The first part of the day is finished -already gone over the programmed schedules - with the Dada Ensamble that performs the dada piece "The whispered manger" by Hugo Ball: in the obscurity, hidden behind a panel the four artists of the Ensamble narrate to us through the noises of the manger. 
Everything is ready for supper and I escape home for a little rest. When I return they have not ended yet dining, they are undecided whether to do the Promenade, but I call them all in the street! In Piazza dei Martiri I make them stop, and I ask if someone is prepared to make "a poetic accident". Renata Strada throws herself to the ground and Giovanni with the megaphone calls the people around her, Vitacchio improvises verses, Giovanni also stretches on the road and immediately later also Serafini, the other ones trace with chalk their outlines and improvise verses. We resume the walk and in the Piazza del Comune we settle in semicircle under the light of the balcony, PIF and the whole company de l’Ortica is ready, but someone is missing, so Mandrino fills the pause by reading a poem. They are now all here ready, they recite, they move in the space of the square, they mime, "The zipper of time", a piece written by them on the injustices that cross all the epoches. And it is the turn of Donaudi with the poetry reading. The group Puls/Plus enters into action, Morandi and Bonicelli are stretched head against head holding by the hands and Franca marks their contours with the flour, while silence is created. Morandi is bandaged with some red and white ribbon, Bonicelli is a human seismograph, leaves a trace on a roll of paper. Both are stretched, moved of 90 degrees, on the flour figure, Conti approaches them with his tubular bells and plays, the sense of meditation crosses us, "Trans-Meditation n°3". The Stradada, running after one another and singing involve us in their new action, while Donaudi, that has not acknowledged the action, taking advantage of the telephone-booth of the square makes an unintentional intrusion, we hear quite clearly his conversation, and we cannot hold back the smile. Yzu closes this exit in the center of Rignano, sat on the flour outlines he reads one tormented poem of his.

Sunday May 30^th  

When in the morning I reach the meeting, everyone is already there. I see with pleasure Gianni Broi, Bruno Capatti, Leonello Rabatti, Piero Viti that by now after various fruitless phone calls I despaired to meet, Gordiano Lupi, his family and his friends Andrea Panerini and Lisa Massei, that have displayed on the tables their productions of “Il Foglio Letterario”. The Collettivo Antinebbia, Daniele Davalli, a mail artist that has come with his wife to assist to the meeting. We have to start the discussions, the cooks asked us to anticipate the poetic lunch. We start with a talk on the themes of Creativa, the way it works, what future lies in front. And many take the word to throw out proposals: the deep bonds with the spirit of mail art, the attempts to build an artistic path with ample breath, the poetry, the writing, the spoken word, the music, the performance and his meanings, the selfproductions of the materials, the distribution, the spaces. We would never end, now that the themes are in the open, so Broi finishes proposing to keep alive the discussion also while having lunch. We all move among the panels of the show “Safety Exit”, in the long and, alas!, too bright corridor. We are ready to listen to the pieces performed by Punzo with his sculptures of recycled debris and Terri that dances putting lights in movement!!! That’s why dark was needed! It is very interesting and the sounds that it draws from that wrecks are powerful. We now go, it is the time of the poetic meal, nice euphemism to find again all of us finally relaxed before a savory lunch, with a good wine that the words that we exchange make even lighter. Close to me Yzu and Francisca, we discuss of the words and of the need to overcome certain positions. With Broi we speak again about Mail Art. Then I distribute some briefcases with my “Digitografies”, but there are not enough for everybody! The time goes by. And yes, the hours at the table fly away, however we want to restart! A beautiful surprise is waiting for us, Claudio, Punzo, Conti, Irene and Terri, they have agreed to prepare an improvisation: the "Mantra of Creativa" as announced by Claudio, him with his electric guitar, Punzo with one of his sculptures and Conti with the tubular bells. Irene and Terri move, they fold up, they weave their bodies under a shining sun. We are almost in trance, fascinated from the natural and electronic sounds, the bodies… When they end, it takes us a few minutes to recover. Massimo Barbaro comes towards me, an artist that desired to attend the meeting, with his wife. Behind him is Massimo De Luca, our friend writer, together with his companion. The mayor Gianna Magherini has arrived, bringing her greetings to the artists. Two girls, Silvia Silverio and Antonietta Dicorato are looking for me, they have just arrived from Bologna , they have some photos of bodies to exhibit. But Capatti has stretched a long plastic cloth, bottles, woods. The group Puls/Plus helps him cutting and nailing three long pieces of wood. There is tension in the air. Capatti is stripped, he remains in underpantses, he stretches on the cloth. Silvi drips around him some color, he rises again and smears the color, he dilutes with water that strip of color, he runs to take the pieces of wood by now full of nails, he forms a cross with them. He looks at us, he greets. An applause free us from his "Crucifiction". Lupi reads a passage from his book "I think I’ll start a writing course myself" on the subject of vanity press and Panerini reads two poems from his book "Heretical Verses". Meanwhile Boschi gets ready for his "Trevi society", a series of 36 small plates are put in place, a recorded recitation starts and she throws a coin in every saucer from which so many white flowers of equality will bud… There comes a girl that Patrizia thinks is a Creativa participant, I ask her but she tells me no! Humm! It will be then Yzu to disclose this mystery introducing her to me as Isabella Branella, that has participated in the mail art project and has come from Giulianova to see it. Lisa Massei reads some pages from her book "Insomnia". Broi follows who, with the help of Vitacchio and the extemporaneous interventions of Mandrino, recites his ironic "Creepes to the bugs - Poem on the Extinct Birds", it comes out from there an extraordinary involvement with Latin litany echos. And here arrives the completely overpainted auto of the group Puls/Plus, and stops at the center of the square. They all come out. Morandi sits in the front seat and draws a square, he undresses, he concentres and completes a series of operations, Conti shows the panel "nostalgia of the nature" and arranges some earth on the roof of the auto, seeding, sprinkling it, and sitting down he plays his Tibetan bell. Bonicelli, on the back, is bandaged with a thin ribbon to resemble a mummy, he tears it, makes necklaces then goes toward the public and laces people with it. Franca photographs everything. They reenter the car and they depart. The group de l’Ortica repeat the piece "You zipper of the time", then we reenter to listen to Punzo and Terri. Meanwhile Yzu is ready in the room with the sounds from his computer, the baton, the mask, the cloack. We settle around and let us float into the poetic delirium of "Me", “Ego", with prerecorded links between poetry and rock songs. From outside we are called by Ciberio that reads standing up and on his knees some passages from his book. Again we go inside. Vitacchio and Bertola with prerecorded tapes perform three pieces of sound poetry, "Je crie, J'ecri", "Ne jetez pas..", "Breakfast", with delightfully delirious results. Again outside, Ivano Vitali is preparing his "Fireworks". He takes out of a pouch a series of newspapers glued together in always bigger and bigger sheets, that running he makes to blow up and take volume, with a wide and light movement. He concludes covering me completely with it. Giovanni and Renata Strada again stretch the blue cloth, they are hidden under it and they succeed wearing some colored mantles, that contain circles with titles of songs. Standing on the cloth they alternatively read the titles, then on the notes of an old song they dance. Francisca Rojas reads with a peaceful lilt four of her poems. After her Leonello Rabatti recites there from memory a long dramatic poem: his feeling on this world that races toward the downfall. And Lisa Massei brings us to the personal dimension of the difficulty / hardness of living with another passage from her book. On the glass door of the school the sun is going down. We enter for the last meetings, Mandrino declaims the poem "Stones", with the bells of Conti. The final explosion is Donaudi with three poems, some indeed satirical, as that on the subject of the burqa. And here we come to the final greetings, tired but with inside the feeling of having experienced something exceptional, as could be read on the faces and in the smiling eyes, in the excitement to reassume, in the desire to meet again: to next year! 

Franco Piri Focardi June 6th 2004      many thanks to Vittore Baroni