YESTERDAY
Perhaps it is because it is September and the air smells of new beginnings, of sun-caramelized skin embraced, of excited, stolen, long-awaited “I have so much to tell you” at the school gates, of sadness gently let go into the memory of suns set along the timeline at the bottom of the sea; or perhaps it is for having found, between the warm, rough ivory pages of a red-covered book smelling richly of inhabited paper, a crumpled note written in pencil by a hand from another era, reading:
3H pencil
F4 paper pad
set square
ruler
compass
It was all that was needed to look far ahead.
A pencil sharpened like a pin, ruler and set square with razor-sharp corners, a blank sheet of possibilities, a hand full of hope, and the most curious movement of those years began: dashing.
Soft, decisive yet unforced, calm, balanced, trusted, in short, the exact opposite of whatever was beneath the skin; perhaps that is why I loved it so much. And yet, that sense of peace in giving space to the hand’s dark mark, in the meeting between the firm tip and the calm white below, where it was matter then thought, and again matter and again thought, gave me hope, as if step-by-step I were laying the cobblestones of something that was farther than or from me, yet was there.
First projections and then perspective, managing to accomplish an act of beauty: making one imagine, realize, bring into existence what seemed unable to exist directly in two dimensions, because it possessed a third. It was there, you knew it, but you could not see it. And instead, the dashed line helped you understand, discover, that it was right there before your eyes; you simply had to feel it to reach it, like when you leave a cinema and run your fingers along the velvet drape of the exit door in search of air to let newly born or rediscovered emotions flow, walking your fingers faster and faster until finally finding the edge of the fabric, and light once again. You know that light is there, you feel it. How to find it? By having a clear observation point.
Yes, among the main elements of perspective, alongside the horizon line at eye level and the vanishing point upon that horizon, lies the viewpoint, the exact position from which the observer gazes upon their intent.
TODAY
Spin Time Labs was born in Rome within the spaces of the former INPDAP building -the National Social Security Institute for Public Employees- in via di Santa Croce in Gerusalemme, on October 12, 2013, through an action promoted by the housing rights movement Action – Rights in motion, as an urban regeneration lab.
Re-generation: generating anew, so that things that did not work, or worked little, or worked and then stopped, may be re-created.
Spin, the idea of motion, joined with Lab, experimentation, and thus a very precise concept takes shape: giving a counter-thrust to the narrative of the city, where empty buildings are no longer viewed as mere speculative assets, but are regenerated to place people, –their- rights, and –their- well-being back at the center. A push that envisions how an occupied space can become a forge of culture, politics, art, and services for a neighborhood in constant movement. Hundreds of Italian and foreign families left homeless, who united the dimension of housing with that of citizenship rights, offering creative and shared spaces. All of this set in a time, this time, where replacing is preferred to healing, where “doing it by for oneself” is preferred to “doing for three.”
And so, it holds greater value.
Recent events saw the seizure and eviction of the building in via di Santa Croce in Gerusalemme during the night between July 29th and 30th due to a fire, quickly extinguished. 400 people who walked out with the thought of returning shortly after, like when you only carry your phone and some loose change “I’m just buying bread and coming right back, no need for keys, you’ll open for me.” And yet, no one ever opened again.
A sit-in that saw the mobilization of a multitude of people, including locals, various associations permanently operating within the internal cultural center, and artists, all showing concrete solidarity.
A rejected “bridge agreement,” welfare facilities, public housing, an upcoming national demonstration: such is the current state of affairs.
The road does not lead home
If you do not know where your home is (…)
But how can you say
That everything here is normal?
as Ghali would say.
TOMORROW
Reading the story of Cahide, a Kurdish woman preparing naan with warm tea; of Daniela who at 15 dreams of living abroad but cannot imagine a life in a “classic apartment building” without her best friends one floor away it is here that I understand they are dashing lines. That with them, Nicole, Micaela, Emmanuel, as well as those who saw in an empty place a space to make wildflowers bloom, those who left home in 40 degree heat just to lend a hand or simply hold one, those who felt there was another dimension even if not directly visible, all of them were dashing lines.
The same observation point: being together, doing together, for oneself and for the other, watering a seed, waiting for a poppy to be born, then a daisy, and then a cornflower. A perspective that recognizes that the most beautiful stars are those which, all different, create a constellation.
In quantum physics, the very act of observing, measuring a particle (the point) inevitably alters its state and behavior, drawing it out of the “cloud of possibilities” and forcing it to “choose” a specific position.
So, could a revolutionary act be stepping out of the clouds, positioning oneself at a very precise point, and beginning to “observe” the constellations, beginning to let water droplets flow and be reborn as a cornflower?
For that third dimension denotes depth, so impalpable yet equally vital, as to render us uniquely human.
And so,
– – – – – – …
Susanna Lucatello
Leave a Reply