Text by – Edoardo Righini

Translated by – Lucrezia Iussi

ART-ICOLS is, first of all, a word game. It’s a game we’ve all played at some point, sitting on a museum armchair, or looking at the pictures in an Art textbook. That’s what ART-ICOLI is: history of art, but, even more precisely, history into art. They are short and quick texts that tell of an artwork, which is a tale itself. They are intended to be read with one eye, while the other is looking at the picture that gave the spark. You’ll find out, then, that a thousand stories can grow out of the same source. All of them true and all of them made up.


When she came to me, beautiful and dangerous like the haughty Egyptian cobra, I already knew everything about her. How could she, a Jewish widow, hope to fool me, the trusted general of Nabucodonosor, the bright Assyrian army leader, who bent Betulla, and who’d have soon bent the whole Israeli people. My spies had warned me about her schemes and I could’ve chocked her with my bare left hand. But when I saw her I feared her. There was something in those emerald eyes and in that rage, dissimulated by gifts and golden vests, that confused me. In that moment I decided which battle I wanted to die fighting. That night I drank the spiced Shiraz wine, to get rid of my fear with the drunkenness… me, always so ready to fight, vigorous and fatal in the assault such as in the fight. Her subtle blade didn’t hurt when it stained my tunic with blood as red as the ominous wine. I was left with the regret that the only walls which did not surrender to my siege were her lips, whispering death to me.


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