Anyone who knows me and follows me here knows that I am passionate about science fiction (see Isaac had already understood everything) and that since last year there is a form that haunts me. Concentric circles, which are added to the spirals. In the same period, from reading sci-fi I found myself reading physics and quantum physics and so I began a reflection on time (which passes, which is measured, which is crossed ...) not only from the narrative point of view but also from a more scientific one (although I'm keeping away from formulas, at the moment). 
How does this journey relate to my art? I have transformed the form that I visualize and recognize everywhere in PORTALS TO TRAVEL IN TIME ... My latest wine on paper, painted in wine, are concentric circles, circles that follow each other, that form spirals, funnels, paths. They are drawings but also imaginary doors or stargates to other temporal dimensions.
Do they work?
Only a time travel story writer would tell you yes. Instead, I will tell you what happened to me the day I painted them, finished with gold leaf and arranged in a row on the wall.
That afternoon a friend of mine asked me to help him to retrieve a letter from his grandfather written on a rolled piece of paper fixed with rubber bands around a piece of iron dirty of sand.

A few hours later we find ourselves in my kitchen with a pot full of boiling water that produces a lot of steam and a sieve used as a breathable lid and support for our delicate find. The paper did not unwind, it was one with the piece of iron. The piece of iron was part of an unexploded bomb dating back to World War II found in the vineyards by the grandfather of my friend, who reported that memory on a calendar page on an unspecified date  and left it in the kitchen. Exactly where my friend found it.

Paying a lot of attention we have been able to separate the paper from the iron, clean it and spread it out. Some parts of the letter are lost but what we can understand is the story of a "sad memory" of a bombing in 1944 and the discovery of an unexploded bomb in September 1953, which was set off by the Alexandria bomb squad. On the back the page of the month of August of an unspecified year which, according to the days and the Saints, should be 2003, the year in which my friend's grandfather left his testimony and wrapped it around a part of the bomb, perhaps the safe.

When I said goodbye to my friend, I thanked him for the time travel he gave to me. Thanks Umberto, thanks grandfather Sisto.

Accomplices the portals;)