We all tend to have a TV in our home and we all tend to watch it.
[Some say “I have it, but I don’t watch it” and they lie, because no one actually does that].
We are bombarded by images, stuffed with issues and hit by boredom. And we love it.
All this said, I too watch TV, it’s right in front of the stove. Among the shows I despise most are those with people crying because they absolutely must go to the plastic surgeon and nip and tuck the parts of their bodies which give them insecurities. Insecurities so deep and delicate one needs to sell them to a television program. Trivial yet real thought: I always thought being insecure was a pivotal condition of growth and I’m still convinced this to be true: everyone decides how to battle it, more or less aware of what they are, learning the difference in being or not being aware. I like those who work through their insecurities to become decent adults.
But let’s go back to those people who fix their boredom with surgical knives.
I don’t want to be viewed as irrevocably against plastic surgery because I’m not and because sometimes it improves the lives of those who seek it.
However today I want to tell you the story of two people who did not choose this route.
Emanuela lives in Milan, Maria Chiara in Todi.
Both of them were badly burned as children: Emanuela has scars scattered over her neck and arm, Maria Chiara has them on her neck, shoulders and forehead.
I met both of them by accident and both of them randomly told me the story of their skin: listening to them is like listening to someone telling a fairy tale, free of regrets, free of tension.
As you listen you are free to ask all the questions you want, in peace.
I choose to call it a fairy tale even though there are no talking animals or walking plants; I call it fairy tale because, like fairy tales, there is a small underlying principle, a moral that spontaneously emerges and would lose its value if expressed in words.
How did it happen?
Maria Chiara: When people ask me I usually say I fought with a heater and that the heater won. It happened on January 28 1992, I was six years old at the time. That afternoon I was home sick watching a cassette in my old house in Todi, the classic tiny apartment of an old building without heating. My mother was in her room feeding my one-year-old brother and had asked me to tell her when the cassette finished. To get to her room I needed to cross a narrow corridor with a kerosene heater, that day there was a kettle on top it: halfway through the corridor I lost my balance, I fell down and hit the heater, the kettle fell on me and spilled on my pajamas. I will spare you the details of what happened after, even though I have crystal clear memories of the minutes up until the arrival of the paramedics, then the ride to the hospital; then nothing until I woke up in intensive therapy.
Emanuela: I just turned two when an entire coffee kettle fell on me: It was boiling on the stove, someone bumped into it and it hit me. I had nothing to do with the fall, back then I was an angel and I stayed where I was told. It was a horrible accident caused by an unlucky motion of a family friend who I believe won’t ever forgive himself. I, on the other hand, have long forgiven him. When they brought me to the hospital they said I was under life threat because of the gravity of the burns and infections and the possibility my organs would collapse. Even though I was just two I have very clear memories of some of the experience. The pain must have been so excruciating it will never be forgotten. I remember when they undressed me; it was February and I was wearing a wool turtleneck; I will spare you the details. And I remember a night when I was crying in the hospital: I was thirsty (dehydrated from the burns) and no one would bring me water. Probably just a small unlucky moment because my mother always told me how incredible and warm the people of the Buzzi Hospital had been.
And then, after the hospital?
M.C.:Right after I left the hospital I went to the Great Burns Center in Cesena, my father took me there once a week until I got better, now and then we talked about what I could do in the long term and the possibility of plastic surgery when I turned 16-18 years old.
E: When I came back from the hospital my mom medicated me once every two days. I can’t imagine what’s like for a young woman to hear her two year old daughter scream in pain, especially right after it happened. But we survived.
How did your families take it?
M.C.:It was hard for my parents. My mom took a leave from work to be with me night and day and my dad was always there, even though he had a fear of hospitals. He drove me everywhere to get the care I needed. When I reached the famous 16-18 years of age my parents left me free to decide if I wanted to undergo cosmetic procedure: whichever decision I made they would have been with me 100%, like they have always been.
E: At the time my mom was a 25 year-old girl living in Milan with my dad, with both original families far away, she was just a girl who was told that her baby maybe wouldn’t make it. But she became as strong as a lion and I survived, never fully understanding why. She raised me without making me feel there was anything different: she always dressed me like all the other little girls, never hiding my scars. It was the others who made me feel different, especially as a teenager, but the love and respect my parents gave me always uplifted me.
Which therapies were suggested to solve the “problem”?
M.C.: One of the most popular procedures is the skin transplant but this wasn’t a real option for me: because of the position and nature of my scars the procedure would have involved extensions. Technically the doctor inserts small “balloons” under the skin next to the scar, then he inflates them little by little to stretch the undamaged skin. The operation itself consists of removing the damaged skin and sewing the new skin parts together. Needless to say this implied another scar, also this procedure could be possible only on the biggest scar and not the others.
E.: We talked about it when I was little, but as an adult I stopped asking, at the moment I don’t even know what my options are.
Both of you chose not to intervene: why?
M.C.:I spoke to different doctors, including a famous plastic surgeon: he explained in all honesty that he could operate but I would still be left with a big scar in the shape of a T. I also needed to undergo general anesthesia twice: this terrified me then and still does. He told me to take my time and left me saying: “don’t let this become a problem, you really are very beautiful.” At that moment I began to think I could live without considering my scars a problem. The procedures were also very expensive and I didn’t want to burden my parents even though I knew that they were fully prepared.
E.: I was embarrassed of my scars: people asked me if I wore bathing suits in the summer, one person even stopped to ask if the scar on my neck was due to a thyroid operation. For years I wished for a clean neck, like all the other girls’. Then one day, as an adult, I decided I would keep my scars. My decision wasn’t due to procedure costs or the fact there was no guaranteed good result, since the neck is a movable area. The decision was an act of love for myself: I have the right not to suffer and to accept who I am with my scars. I won’t put myself through an endless cycle of hospital visits, I didn’t deserve it when I was two and I don’t deserve it now. I chose this luxury and I forgave the person “responsible” because I think he was as unlucky as I was. I’m not ashamed, I don’t have any fear or complex, my scars are a part of me and I almost don’t even notice them anymore. I can’t say I love them but we co-exist very civilly.
I would like to stop a moment and add a thought, because to speak of forgiveness one must assume an original phase of anger. I am not sure that Emanuela was ever angry with the man who we label as “responsible”, I don’t believe it’s possible to be angry in the traditional sense of the term. I believe, however, that time exists to spin our soul and so does anger, which is a much healthier and clean feeling than many more futile well-intended castrations.
It’s obvious that awareness comes in steps, different moment, different level.
It’s obvious that to reach the final step you need to get through some bad moments.
It’s obvious that you will need to accept the anger, especially when it is so intimate as the one that visited Emanula and maybe even Maria Chiara.
It’s not like I’m narrating the life of two saints.
I don’t feel like asking Emanuela if she thinks that man was just a bit clumsy or if hers was a twisted destiny: this is really her business.
I would like for us to speak of anger with the same serenity with which we speak of a billion other phenomenon, even natural ones, because as it comes it also goes.
Everyone suffers hardships and I wish each of us would be able to live though it with the same fullness of Maria Chiara and Emanuela: not just accepting things as they are but to find a meaning in them and make everything fit like a pair of shoes.
We need to love ourselves, it’s the only way to really be happy and not just pretend to be.
Emanuela and Maria Chiara really like themselves, they aren’t pretending. You can see it in their lives: both work with their own image and with the concept of image.
Maria Chiara studies theater and is also a great make-up artist, Emanuela has recently changed occupation and is involved in fashion. [www.aglitteringwoman.com]
I suggested they meet and they accepted.
[A moka calls you and tells you to go on a date with someone you’ve never met: imagine that!]
I also asked if they could take a few pictures, for when I would tell their stories: Emanuela called Valentina, a girl she met before in one of her classes in IED, remembering her interest in photography. I felt very lucky to hear this fairy tale, and I’m happy that they met because carrying a lesson on your skin is different than seeing it in someone else’s eyes: I think that day they gave each other a little wonderful gift, but that’s just my opinion.
I got in touch with Valentina to ask a bit about herself, because I felt her name in the bottom of the pictures just wasn’t enough. As she was sharing her life with me one thing she said really struck me, she just casually mentioned it like it was of no importance: […] In my childhood summers I spent hours reading magazines and illustrated books. I liked to watch a picture and imagine the story behind it. It always gave me a magical feeling, nothing was real yet everything was possible. I had the power to turn anything into anything else. As I grew up I realized that I could express those very visions and thoughts through photography . Everything I dreamed, all the stories and names I gave to things could appear in front of me. This realization helped me immensely, because as I was telling you, I was never able to communicate well with words […] When I take a picture I always try to tell a story, the story of what and who I have in front of me, and obviously I always do it in my own way.” Valentina photographs through her lens, and I don’t mean that of the camera but the one that makes her feel and see the world: the logic in her images becomes the mold and it is only then that we understand what she means by “magical feeling”.
The images made me shiver under my paint. I think my three beautiful women all liked each other very much. I believe that we have all we need to live happily ever after.
***
A big thank you to Mirco for fixing my posts according to my graphical fancies. I already thanked Emanuela and Maria Chiara in private for sharing their stories, I also thanked Valentina for the pictures and for her gracious presence. It should be only fair of me to express my gratitude also through this platform. All three of them were so kind as to thank me for having brought them together to share their stories. They really meant it and I know it. So in the end I think we can all say a big “you are welcome”, which sounds a bit random but is as lovely as saying “thank you”.
And today I’m happy to give a very special thank you to Elisa for translating all my words in english to let them have a longer journey.
[italian version here >> https://lamokarossa.wordpress.com/2013/10/26/duedonnechemipiacciono/]
Mokella 3000: CollettivO CineticO in topless paparazzato a Edimburgo, in omaggio un ciuffo di pelo di Angelo Pedroni. Gratis su estense.com!
Il CollettivO CineticO: chi sono questi tizi?
Questi tizi sono dei tizi che la mattina presto, cascasse il mondo, sono in sala prove.
Questi tizi pensano alle cose prima di farle e dopo averle fatte.
Questi tizi non si lamentano mai.
Questi tizi qui li chiamo tizi perché quel che conta ora non è quel che penso io ma quel che è inopinabile.
Un paio di giorni fa leggo uno stato un po’ amarognolo sul profilo di Francesca, membro centrale del collettivo: “E i commenti di estense.com ti danno il benvenuto in Italia…(e comunque se nessuno dice cattiverie false sul tuo conto firmandosi con uno pseudonimo non sei nessuno). Lusingata”.
Loro non si lamentano mai ma l’amarezza lambisce qualunque lido, ve lo dico io che sono una moka.
Vado dunque a leggere estense.com e trovo l’articolo che parla appunto del Collettivo Cinetico al Fringe di Edimburgo e per chi non avesse voglia di leggerlo tutto ne cito un pezzettino, che secondo me serve bene la questione che intendo aprire: “La partecipazione al Fringe di Edimburgo è un’ulteriore dimostrazione che il ferrarese CollettivO CineticO può a ragione essere considerato come una delle eccellenze tra i talenti emergenti della scena contemporanea made in Italy. Questo gruppo di performer, che dal 2007 opera a Ferrara come fucina di sperimentazione performativa negli interstizi tra teatro e arte visiva, è infatti da poco entrato a far parte delle compagnie riconosciute e sostenute dal Fondo unico dello spettacolo del Ministero dei Beni Culturali e nel 2102 ha vinto il Premio Speciale Performance 2012: Ripensando Cage con Age, lavoro costruito con 9 adolescenti ferraresi, che ha debuttato l’autunno scorso al Romaeuropa Festival e pochi giorni fa è stato presentato al Festival Drodesera (TN). E la stagione 2013/2014 per CollettivO Cinetico si presenta altrettanto ricca di impegni e soddisfazioni: nel 2014 debutterà la versione definitiva di un Amleto in chiave cinetica per il teatro Franco Parenti di Milano e, dopo il successo di Age, il Teatro Comunale di Ferrara e Ferrara Arte hanno commissionato alla compagnia due progetti rivolti agli adolescenti”.
Leggo i commenti sotto e mi si svita la valvola: ci sono due tizi (sì, anche loro tizi), Umarin e Michele, che accusano il CollettivO CineticO di cose varie tra cui scarsità di contenuti e nepotismo. No, loro non li cito perché le loro parole ve le dovete proprio andare a leggere se volete annoiarvi.
[Si trova tutto qui: http://www.estense.com/?p=321763&cpage=1#comment-374990 ]
A questo mondo siamo tutti tizi, tutti uguali, tutti abbiamo a disposizione le stesse ore negli archi delle stesse giornate e per lo più scegliamo noi cosa farne. E proprio perché siamo tutti tizi, tutti tizi uguali, le accuse ai tizi cinetici diventano ai miei occhi estremamente gravi.
Dove ci sono impegno, attenzione, precisione e pensiero i contenuti non mancano, sarà che per documentarsi si fa la fatica di leggere più di 5 righe.
Dove ci sono impegno, attenzione, precisione e pensiero le critiche a vanvera non sussistono, sono un rumore di fondo sotto una voce ferma e decisa che esprime concetti logici e puliti. E infatti Francesca è intervenuta dando spiegazioni logiche e pulite: lei è sempre gentile con tutti. [Io no. E l’ammiro molto per questo.]
Ma i due tizi continuano: è straziante vedere quanta acrimonia si possa accumulare per la pigrizia di informarsi o per quella di darsi da fare come si deve ogni giorno.
Non è la prima volta che sento critiche sterili al CollettivO CineticO, ma è l’ennesima volta che penso siano partorite dalla povertà d’intenti che avvelena il nostro tempo: questa volta l’ho scritto, che magari qualcuno mi viene a riavvitare la valvola.
Pubblicato da La Moka Rossa su 20 agosto 2013 in Moka
Tag: Amleto, Cage con Age, collettivo cinetico, commenti, critiche sterili, Edimburgo, estense.com, Ferrara, Ferrara Arte, Franco Parenti, Fringe, Made in Italy, Ministero dei Beni Culturali, performer, Romaeuropa Festival, valvola