Vivono nella nostra memoria/They live in our memory

I canali di comunicazione di Donne della realtà hanno aderito così all’appello dell’Anci (Associazione nazionale comuni italiani) che ha invitato istituzioni e cittadini a esporre il tricolore a mezz’asta e a osservare, oggi a mezzogiorno, un minuto di silenzio per ricordare chi è morto a causa dell’epidemia da Corona Virus.

This is how Donne della realtà’s communication channels joined Anci’s (National italian municipalities association) plea which invited institutions and citizens to fly the flag at half mast today at noon and to honour with a minute’s silence the victims of Corona Virus.

 

Il video è stato girato da Paola Ciccioli dal balcone della casa di Bellano, sul lago di Como, da cui quasi giornalmente si collega per parlare di libri. Queste letture ai tempi della pandemia sono condivise su Facebook e sul canale YouTube Paola Ciccioli – Incontri.

Clip taken by Paola Ciccioli in Bellano, lake Como, from that balcony where she almost daily does her literature-related video readings. These readings during epidemics are shared on her Facebook page and on Paola Ciccioli – Incontri YouTube channel.

Traduzione in inglese di Luca Bartolommei

“Bella”, one word is enough

Testo, foto e traduzione in inglese di Luca Bartolommei

Gli Stati Uniti sono il secondo Paese che, ci informano le statistiche wordpress, contatta quotidianamente il blog Donne della realtà di cui sono la responsabile e coordinatrice. Seguono il Canada, il Regno Unito, l’Irlanda, tutti i Paesi europei e l’America Latina, perché come sapete il blog  ha un’intera sezione dedicata ai contenuti in lingua spagnola. Ho chiesto a Luca Bartolommei , che ringrazio, di tradurre in inglese i nostri migliori contributi su Milano, la sua storia e le sue canzoni che abbiamo realizzato insieme in questi anni. Noi vogliamo, lo desideriamo, mantenere vivo il nostro legame con il mondo: il web (il “vasto mondo”) è appunto questo. E, liberata da parole negative e fuorvianti, la Rete è la grande risorsa a nostra disposizione per evitare l’isolamento e il pregiudizi, specie di in queste settimane di allarme Corona Virus. Non potevano che iniziare con l’articolo scritto da Luca sulla sua esperienza di busker sotto le guglie del Duomo. (Paola Ciccioli)

I shot this picture with my phone last september 1st. In a while, light had changed and Duomo looked no longer golden. I’ve caught the moment. I have chosen this photo as cover of my Facebook page “Palcoscenico Milano” where I post pics, videos and other stuff about my going-around-busking-by-myself tour in Milano (https://www.facebook.com/Luca-Bartolommei-Palcoscenico-Milano-440509793146462)

From time to time I pick up my travel guitar and my small mobile PA and go busking in the streets of Milano. I mostly play and sing milanese traditional songs of the 40’s and 50’s, my wife Paola named this project Milano on Stage. Then, Milano itself becomes a huge scene where I can tell to passers-by tales about characters, situations, stories, locations, vices and virtues of the town. Busking, by the way, is something unique in terms of my personal experience, and is really rewarding, it’s something new, and it’s not granted, even after a lifetime spent with and in music. Continua a leggere

“The silence does not deceive me”

by Salvatore Quasimodo*

(Translation into English by Jack Bevan)

The facade of San Simpliciano Basilica as it is today, “computer worn” by Maria Bartocci, artist and Milano’s historian (by kind permission of the creator)

Continua a leggere

Quasimodo returns to San Simpliciano

 

A clipping of “Corriere Milanese” about Salvatore Quasimodo’s funeral service, celebrated in St. Simpliciano’s Basilica on 17th June 1968. From the private archives of the poet’s son, Alessandro Quasimodo

Distorto il battito

della campana di San Simpliciano

si raccoglie sui vetri della mia finestra.

Il suono non ha eco, prende un cerchio

trasparente, mi ricorda il mio nome.

Continua a leggere

«Sixty is like the blow of a stone»

by Giuseppina Pieragostini*

Sixty is like the blow of a stone. A sort of lapidation with sixty big stones which go straight to the target. In case you’re a lucky woman, a sharp blow with no warning, while you’re thinking that everything is still to happen, love too, maybe. But, I mean, did you ever take a look at yourself?

Susan Sarandon durante la conferenza stampa di presentazione del Premio Kinéo svoltasi all’Hotel Excelsior di Venezia lo scorso 3 settembre. All’attrice americana è stato assegnato il Kinéo International Award. Nata a Jackson  Heights NY il 4 ottobre 1946, compie oggi 71 anni. Congratulations! Susan Sarandon attending a press conference at the Excelsior Hotel, during Venice Film Festival last september. Foto con il cellulare di Luca Bartolommei.

Above all, you walk as if you don’t have anything interesting left between your legs; then your forms, they stick with stubbornness to the most inappropriate areas of your body, so you’ll find those hips gone up to the armpits, to say nothing of the knees, which look more and more like stone-posts, your arms enlarged in the wrong part and your cheeks which thrive at their own convenience.

And it wouldn’t be over, but phenomenology has limits, too.
Pushing and clawing, present women in their fifties, gained a place, if not amorous, a bit winky al least, in the collective imagination and gave rise to an army of new Amazons in their shining armour, which look others right in the face.

You spent that period at a steady pace, showing off your mottled mop as if you got back to being that prepuberal girl with her head full of dreams; while Portia, again and again, my lifetime’s best enemy, never got off her spike heels and was changing, each three days, the shape and colour of her hair.

Approaching the end of the decade, a certain anxiety creeps in; if the colonization of the fifties has moved farther nobody’s land’s boundaries, that feeling keeps spreading itself, unknown and relentless and, unless you luckily die earlier, you must deal with it.
It’s useless to hang on to the last bits of age, dig in your heels on the edge of the abyss; once lost their arrogance, women get into the sixties dazed and disbelieving. Just an instant, and age, which was a grace to hide or show depending on the game, becomes an implacable master.

Continua a leggere

Buio a New York

a cura di Paola Ciccioli

Craigie Horsfield, “Broadway, 14th day, 18 minutes after dusk, September 2001, 2012” (https://www.luganolac.ch/it/933/craigie-horsfield)

Ho visto questo arazzo di Craigie Horsfield a Lugano, al Museo d’arte della Svizzera italiana. C’era anche l’artista inglese, quel giorno, perché si inaugurava la sua mostra “Of the Deep Present”, con quelle opere, a volte grandi quanto un’intera parete, che sono “dipinti fotografici” di fortissimo impatto. Come questa scena della distruzione delle torri gemelle di New York, realizzata su un “tessuto” di lana, cotone, seta e filato sintetico 11 anni dopo l’attacco terroristico dell’11 settembre 2001. Lascio la parola alla critica d’arte statunitense Nancy Princenthal e a quel che scrive nel sontuoso catalogo:

Continua a leggere

A prisoner’s diary in our hands, responsibility and memories in our hearts

by Angela Giannitrapani*

A picture of Angela Giannitrapani in Marsala, her birthplace, where she told about her book “Quando cadrà la neve a Yol – Prigioniero in India” (Tra le Righe Libri, 2016) making the audience touched about how the novel was born and the events of the story

What shall we do when we find a letter, a card, the diary of a person who’s no longer alive? We peep up at it, of course. Then we read it again more carefully and it happens that we might keep or break some ancient links. At least we wonder what to do: should we keep it aside, give it to someone else, or bury it again where we found it? I had all these sorts of thoughts. It happened with my father’s diary about his captivity during World War II. My sister found it and didn’t hesitate to show it to me. She read it immediately but it took me ten years before doing it. Continua a leggere