Hands have always been my weak point.
I watch them, I touch them, I love them. The hands of the people I care about.
Hands speak more than eyes, smiles, and any other expression.
I did this work during my "spiritual and artistic" retreat in Provence, where I spent twenty days in total solitude, drawing and painting.
These are the hands of those who snatched me from that solitude, during my journey and in everyday life, giving another taste to the passing of time.
Small, gentle, delicate hands. Who know how to do many things.
Even the nameplate is a hallmark of the person depicted in this work. Only, instead of the generalities that are written in reality, I decided to change the content in a sentence that, during my journey, made me think a lot:
Time and Space do not exist. They expand and shrink according to our state of mind. What is true and pure can withstand them, and what is not important can be destroyed.
