Canvas 80×100 cm, cotton, oil, 2025
The Commandments
Desert.
There are places where God speaks in silence.
The desert is one of them. Here, there is nothing superfluous — only sand, wind, and light. And here, amidst this vast nothingness, THEY arise.
Ten tablets. But not carved from stone by human hands. They are woven from the very sand — the wind lifted it into the air, pressed it into shapes resembling ancient boards, and wrote the Words upon them.
They are in Italian. The language spoken by saints and poets. A language in which each word resonates like a note.
The wind writes with sand on wood. Light writes the commandments on the soul.
The tablets are not eternal. The sand crumbles, the edges wear away, the shapes change before our eyes. Time is already eroding them, like water wears down stone. Just a little longer — and they will dissolve, return to the desert, becoming part of what they were born from.
But the Words will remain.