Guest Post by Maurizio Latella in Bordighera, Italy
Last year was my father’s last, after seven years of illness.
It was a truly horrible year, the worst in my life – not just for me but for the rest of my family too. Every week there was at least one health emergency concerning my father. I couldn’t stand it, and it was very hard to face my work as an architect.
In the end I had to accept that I couldn’t work, and that I had to be as close as possible to my daddy, so that I could try to be of some comfort to him during the last period of his life. I tried to get used to the idea that one day Armando would disappear from our lives, but it was difficult.
Back in hospital, I used to write a few notes on the spot; on the misery of the spaces, on their smells and sounds, on the faces of the people – the doubt, the fear, the hope or resignation in their eyes. Now I found I could not. I didn’t have the words and I was empty. Instead I started to do some simple sketches when I could. These are the result. I’m not proud of them – it was more a kind of psychological escape from the situation.
In October, my father died. He was a fisherman. All the waves, the battles with the wind, the struggle with the weight of fishing nets, the hands deeply marked by lines, the fish flapping wildly on the wood of the boat before stopping – were suddenly only memories.
I obtained my diploma in architecture at the Politecno in Milan. Later I practiced for some years in Stockholm, Sweden, then back in Italy. I’m currently trying to rediscover sketching just for the pleasure of it.
