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Art as a Space for Risk and Creativity

it means stepping out of our comfort zone and making new decisions
Art as a space where we can take the risk of being creative

The idea is to approach Art as a space where we can take the risk of being creative. In this context, it means stepping out of our comfort zone and making new decisions. It has excited me to see that during this time, I have found people who have been trying to experiment from a new place. I myself have tried to explore this space, where I need to study more, prepare theories, presentations, and new exercises. I realize that I still have a lot to learn, that sometimes I move too quickly. I need to delve deeper into the subjects to feel them more and more as my own.


What feels truly mine is how the canvas becomes an experience for life. I am convinced that it is not just about the pleasure of making a painting, although for me it is great, but also about getting in tune with other processes. The joy of living as an attitude of curiosity towards the canvas and what happens to us outside of it. I would like to deepen this topic.


When I paint, I start in not knowing, a not knowing that fills me with anxiety. I would like to know everything, from how to start to how to finish. I wish that every activity, whether mine or that of my loved ones, were clear. I want to know if someone who is sick will get better or not. However, this enormous need for control cannot always be satisfied; I cannot know how my painting will end, just as I could not know that my father would die from one day to the next.


This not knowing invites us to the flow of life. In the case of death, to live with intensity and love; in the case of painting, to let ourselves go. This morning, I was watching a video that said: "What are you afraid of if we are going to die anyway?" It sounds drastic, but it is so true. Limiting fears hold us back from growing, fears that keep us from just trying.


Then, this blank canvas becomes a space to experiment and let ourselves be surprised without having to satisfy my need to control but being in relation to the new that opens up. And observing how fears and control can soften; I don't say disappear, because I believe our mind will always create new fears. The invitation is to see them and decide what to do with them.


The canvas is this, an invitation to enter myself. From not knowing to starting to dance on the canvas, listening from the inside out where there is nothing definitive, and I can experiment. And that is what we are: beings in continuous experimentation, discovering ourselves while we try different situations. I didn't know what kind of mother I would be until I became a mother, and every day I re-become one, adapt, and transform. It is not a static process; it is a continuous movement of reinventing and transforming according to the situations that arise.


On the canvas, I move between colors, gestures, brushes, discovering things that fill me, call me, and move me, and others that simply do not speak to me or bother me. When I take this reflection out of the canvas, a world of questions opens up: What does not fill me? What does not serve me? What will I let go? And what does fill me, how can I amplify it?


Then, listening is fundamental, from recognizing what is giving me something to what no longer has anything to contribute. In life, the same thing happens; there are relationships that no longer contribute or simply break, and there are people who add to us and make us shine. Letting go is an interesting experience. When I paint, I can let go of my certainties, changing position, changing colors, materials, covering. Each layer of color gives me experience and a base that stays; something of what happened goes and another part stays, even if it is not seen, it is there "affecting" in a certain way the other colors. That’s how we are, our history is there, underneath or on the surface.


When I decide to let go, I connect with my choice and responsibility. We can't have it all, always. We learn to choose, always. Although many times we don't like having to do it, choosing implies a renunciation: if it is A, it probably can't be B. We can choose and make mistakes, and that learning is also very important inside and outside the canvas.


Many times, our desire to know and control holds us back from making decisions, but it is in the choice that we learn, and suddenly we have to jump, trusting that in the movement we will surely learn something. There are no guarantees. And it is good to discover it and see how, when I am wrong, I can remedy it and work with what I have. In painting, it will be to cover, add, destroy, transform to create from the "mistake". The same thing happens outside. But I really believe that being brave enough to dare to make mistakes is already an act of learning.


I remember when I was ashamed to raise my hand and say in Italian the correct answer the teacher was asking, partly because I was a foreigner and did not master the language, and partly because of the fear of making mistakes. It was better to stay silent and then confirm on my own if I was right or not. Sir Ken Robinson says this is the great mistake of schools today: the fear of error, the bad grade makes us less creative.


Surely, creativity is in saying something silly, in daring to say many silly things to eventually find an answer. The same in making many ugly paintings because wanting to make the most beautiful painting in the world puts so much pressure on me. Making an ugly painting gives me freedom, where my demand to be perfect can fade and let go.


During the classes, I have observed that it is more difficult to achieve this looseness with people who feel unartistic because they start from not knowing. When someone considers themselves an "artist," it is difficult to break that barrier of having to do things well because it is what they are, what they studied, they have a training... so many things to prove!


That proving oneself capable as a continuous self-observation, we seek looks. Continuously and perpetually.


There is something magical in my work, I don't know the recipe or how this magic happens. But I realize that by starting to break the barrier of fear or judgment, everything flows wonderfully. Regardless of the context, it is as if art connects us with a very authentic part of ourselves. That part that is beyond fear.


When that moment melts, I see the person let go and float in a kind of cloud of colors where we might not yet have a clear understanding of what is making us feel good.


It is true that the language of Art is something we had as children, a pure energy that made me connect with myself and my surroundings.


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