The shutter reminded me of this border between outside and inside, between the intimate and the public. I felt like staining this fabric.
Then I remembered this tradition that existed in regions of southern Italy for far too long. It involved hanging the sheets with the woman’s blood out of the window after the wedding night and displaying it as a sign of their “purity.” I wanted to reverse this blatant heteropatriarchal tradition by helping myself to “impure” blood and to do so in this place between the house and the rest of the world. Watching the blood branch out in the mesh of the fabric showed me the art of spreading, of delivering a message. Cut: the era in which the flow will no longer be shameful, the color of blood in all its nuances or its absence. Anger is what we man makes of it. This piece celebrates the fight against menstrual precarity and is for respect of for all uteri.
From Genesis to the Apocalypse, the fig is loaded with (sometimes contradictory) meanings. In essence, it is considered a symbol of abundance and prosperity. According to certain biblical interpretations, the fig tree is the tree of knowledge in the Garden of Eden, the origin of original sin.
The fruit of the spirit that nourishes body and soul. In Italian, the name of the fruit is translated into the masculine “il fico”. But in Bari, in the interpretation of the Italian dialect, the word has a feminine connotation: “la fica”, which also means “pussy”. I have always been fascinated by the sensuality of sacred female representations in churches and on paintings. I have seized the gestures, postures and the expressions to celebrate our lust, our sapphic loves.
We are excited before the period. More than usual. The red rises, radiates and bursts up to our mouths. We burst into flames. Your blood inspires me, your blood is so powerful, so beautiful. Our bodies so alive.
I am a plastic artist born in Bari, in the southeast of Italy. Before rediscovering my maritime roots in Marseilles, I spent seven years in Paris.
In the dialect of Bari, the ‘ndrame are the intestines, the bowels. This word embodies part of my geographical and cultural identity, but also my way of creating and feeling through this place. Moreover, ‘ndrame also leads us back to the word drama, which etymologically means “action,” “making.”
My artistic work is based primarily on collages made from menstrual blood. I work with paper towels; putting blood on them which I let dry. I then tear/cut the paper and glue it to different surfaces. I also use colored pencils, paint, and materials like lace or gold leaf. In the beginning I used my own blood, today I also work with blood from other people, which makes my work a collaborative and pluralistic process.