"Creation" di Davide Fiorentini

In una società fondata sulla ragione si sviluppa un ossessione per la forma, è il modo della ragione di uccidere l’arte. Il giudizio di chi ascolta, vede, ma non sente, interagisce con chi è nato per esprimere e ne condiziona la comunicazione. L’ingenuità, alla base della ricerca emotiva dell’artista è condannata da chi usa l’arte per elevarsi socialmente e la capacità formale diventa il parametro di giudizio con cui spesso sono proprio i più lontani dall’esperienza artistica a dirigere quelli che diventano giochi di potere.

Partecipazioni e Premi:

Festival Internazionale D’Arte Di Palazzo Venezia:
Premio per l’opera più innovativa

Taipei Golden Horse Film Festival
secondo posto miglior documentario
secondo posto premio del pubblico Novembre 2006


Festival internazionale del cinema di Salerno
(Novembre 2006)

20th stuttgarter filmwinter
21/01/07

Featuring: Paloma Cumplido, Eduardo Velasquez, Davide Fiorentini, Saul Ledesma, Emmanuel Macias, Teresina.

Title: CREATION
Length: 26 minutes B-N
Year: 2006
Language: Italian-Spanish
Country of Production: Italy
Country of realizzation: Mexico, Guadalajara
Subtitles: Italian, Spanish, English, Chinese
Production: Davide Fiorentini
Project-Director: Davide Fiorentini
Edit-Postproduction: Samuele Malfatti

Davide Fiorentini@ Myspace

Lost in knowledge - Leon Gabriel

Lost in Knowledge@Myspace

Okkervil River - Song Of Our So-Called Friend

Remember when our so-called friend would not call out to you while tumbling loosely out a hole punched through your home? It’s pretty clear, though you could hear, you truly finally knew, in time, he’d tell his tale the way he’d like it told. Now he isn’t on the phone, and his story might as well be so.

Well, loving is as loving does, and I’d say we should know, because we both have loved, have lost, and are alone. Your face’s falling tears, to me they’re lovely and they’re dear, though you don’t love me and it’s clear that I will never see you in my arms. There’s no room in your heart for even this finely-sharpened dart; although I had started to think there might be hope, it isn’t so.

So wake up, make up some new song again around the same tune. The water cools, the leaves they fall, the sun it bends, the summer ends; our so-called friend doesn’t need you.

So proceed out the door and down the street. December’s lying near, but in the oven’s heat this house is now a home. Sixty days of trips and stays you took to tell me, dear, that you cannot love me because you secretly still love a stone. Although I put my lips to your face, trying to push his kiss out of its place, although my heart started to race, now it has slowed, I’ll let it go.