A group of Neapolitan children roam the city in search of Christmas trees. They pile up their mysterious collection in an abandoned courtyard in the Quartieri Spagnoli.
A summer camp, a judo dojo, a theater workshop in a contemporary art museum. Relations between groups of children and adolescents and their adult guides; teaching methods and educational practices; materials and symbolic rules; relationships between the form of places and behaviors; the reverberation of what is learned in everyone's daily lives. An old super-eight projector, faded images on the wall, a puppet theater. The relationship between pupil and teacher, the transmission of knowledge, the experiences of a past that is only apparently distant in Naples, a city where school has never been the primary source of learning, nor has played a significant role in learning how to live.
Let's make it short because the beginning is already the end: I painted (and will continue to do it) for three consecutive years on the streets of the Spanish Quarters. Attacking from every border: Corso Vittorio Emanuele, Pignasecca, Chiaia, remaining harnessed in the thick mesh of the chessboard designed at the time for the Spanish troops, the heart unexplored and feared because dressed in a cliché armor.
