An afternoon with Mrs Olimpia Orsini.
“Year, take me away/ away from lost things/make not vain/ living alone/ and let lost things fly”
Olimpia Orsini, joyfully accepted my invite of an interview for IT Magazine Blog, and she hosts me in her Art Gallery One Piece Art, at via Margutta, down the artistic heart of Rome, handing to me a little paper with this Carlo Levi’s poetry.
I spot two tattoos on her wrists, that talk a lot to me about her:” I love” on the left one, a stylized balloon floating toward the hand back, on the right. Love and soul lightness, as opposed to brains, she tells me she feels as the beast, the brain that lie, settled inside of mankind, brain chains, already are in her look, fire eyes and impetuous, that betray a gentle heart, “stil novo” wise, like in prerafaelita women portraits strongly passionate.
Internationally known interior designer, architect and passionate Joungian psychologist she starts her professional trip together with a strong classic background, enriched by scenography courses in NYC, and her style, at the beginning, expresses itself thru white French houses, yet baubles and tinsel bare, looking for a free spatiality, with no color ties, that allows space to imperfections as well and, overall, lets the owners speak.
“A person is born the moment I meet them, I don’t mind their past, as the history of a person is a tie already versus the one who’s facing you, a silent invite to wear a mask, that doesn’t hold any meaning in the incognito fence and lets people free to talk about anything or, sometimes, just the silence.” The silence speaks, especially a home silence, as when getting back from a journey that house looks new, those walls different and seem to talk to us, since they reflect our lives”, a house, therefore, can also mean acknowledging yourself, never be reflected thru others, but only thru ourselves, be our true selves then, and be able to offer the same feeling to the one who’s appointing us for restructuring their house that will become the owner’s soul and not the designer’s.
Along this line, of a great respect for the owner’s soul, Olimpia continues her journey thru the contemporary art fields:” artworks need no light spots nor curators, they sparkle on their owns.”
I’m an art wayfarer, she tells me, and immediately “Der Wanderer über dem Nebelmeer” by Caspar David Friedrich gets to my mind, a lonely silouette from behind looking, from the top of a hill, downwards to a landscape hidden by stringy clouds.
“I’m looking for things I cannot see right away, I like to discover” and this is exactly the feeling you get entering her Gallery, the feeling of a gradual discovery, where the art works are not aseptically catalogued as in a trendy Gallery, but ought to be discovered among cristal drops of giant chandeliers or thru an antique mirror reflection, blamed in a corner, as a path through fifths of a memory theatre, in a such powerful osmosis that would turn the most obsolete daily object in to a piece of Art.
As in a XVII century Wunderkammer, you can find maharaja headpieces, art nouveau tiaras enriched by floral swirls and a royal stuffed swan, the Gallery Genius Loci, all that makes a beautiful atmosphere overcoming the contingency, a timeless wonder breath, represented by an antique armless clock, overlooked by a sparkling Crescent, casually abandoned on a stool.
And here you are, raising from our unconscious, the imponent Sappho by Anselm Kiefer shot by Claudio Abate, immerged in the lunar blue of Villa Medici, or Pino Settanni’s visionary talent gifted big red lips, flying among Antonio Cagianelli’s blown glass bawls, Irina Ionesco’s gothic eroticism lights itself thru the hundreds Swarovski iridescences, the Nicola Bolla’s skull with a top hat or thru Gaetano Pesce’s pierced heart reflections.
This journey thru Olimpia’s Gallery gives me the feeling as a little trip, where the suggestions of her most beloved places, Paris or India, where the soul is free, India overall with its colors of poverty, where people are its colors, where happiness raises as a phoenix out of truly and deeply over lived despair, with no masks, with no compromises, where everyone , first of all, is. In this correspondence between simplicity and wonder, shape eclecticism that is mainly substance, I already knew I would have found the IT( HYPERLINK “http://www.itmagazine.fm” www.itmagazine.fm) spirit in full. Whilst going out the Gallery I spot the last exhibition manifesto on which Olimpia’s words are dominant: “ inside of me there is something/ I cannot see/ I can only be.”