Finzi-Contini Giardino

Each human journey, like a sapling growing in the forest, is unique.

What does it mean to be a human, deposited, like pigments flowing in epoxy resin, in different cultures while escaping systemic persecution.

How does it feel to hear the shattering of glass, the implosion of your world, as a 13 year old witnessing Kristallnacht?

How does one reconcile the life of privilege, the life of expectations , the life of renown, with the need for utter silence, the need for invisiblity.

My father’s journey, as memorialized in the book and movie, The Garden of the Finzi-Continis, is retold through the lense of fluid epoxy resin and fragile glass . A world where the innocence of tennis meets the world of denial. A world where a Jewish Botticelliesque angel casts roses as she descends the stairs and visualizes a fading image of her beautiful Finzi. A world where a Finzi frowns when reality shatters his idyllic garden. A world where only the birds flying indoors are untouched by the scene around them. A world where only narcotized ,chaotic epoxy resin can capture, like ancient amber fragments, the life of a lost Finzi world.