Amidst forests, trails, and wild animals, an artwork was born, intertwining art and friendship.
It was a late autumn Friday afternoon in 2020. It was raining outside, and as I sat at my office desk, I was browsing through regional websites in search of some business inspiration.
I came across a public call for proposals for the creation of artwork along the Cammino di San Cristoforo. Sometimes, we hear a small voice inside us urging us to do something, even if it doesn’t seem to interest us at all. In this case, that little voice compelled me to read the entire call, even though it had little to do with the goal I had set for myself.
I knew that the San Cristoforo Path in Friuli had recently been defined, and a section of it passed through Borgo Preplans.
The call requested proposals for the construction of land art installations along the path to making it more attractive and beautiful for walkers.
At first, during a quick read, I immediately felt an emotion growing inside me. My mind was already wandering through the meadows of imagination, envisioning the characters and hearing the dialogues of the beautiful film that would arise from this experience.
It was 5:00 p.m., and the workday was over, but it was time to start writing the outline of the new project.
That same evening, I discussed it with my wife Monica, but in reality, I already knew the answer. She loves everything that is authentic, that brings beauty, and that is done with heart. If she believes in something, she dives headfirst into it. So, without hesitation, we decided to go for it!
With my cell phone in hand, I immediately called Stefano Borselli, a lifelong enthusiast of botany, landscape architect, plant pathologist, garden designer, and above all, a dear friend and companion. I quickly explained the call for proposals to him. But even in this case, we both already knew the answer: let’s do it!
The project was interesting and captivating, but deep down, we knew that more than anything, it was the idea of creating something together that attracted us. The idea of combining our energies and giving them to a work of art was something we could hardly turn our backs on.
Several evenings followed, filled with planning and drafting the necessary paperwork for submission. We worked swiftly because time was short.
A few days before the deadline, I took an hour off and personally delivered the documents to the Montagnaleader offices. I made sure everything was in order with Deborah Dal Basso, the project coordinator.
As I walked out, I felt a sense of lightness and an irresistible desire to begin.
Months pass, and Covid still dictates the pace of our lives, while the commission for the awarding of the call keeps postponing the decision. Finally, the long-awaited news arrives: we got it!
Happiness multiplied, but at the same time, panic sets in. For various reasons, we only have two months to complete everything.
After a quick study of the Preplans area to identify the site for our artwork, I decide to make a portion of my adjacent land along the Path available.
It seemed like the ideal location, and most importantly, by doing so, we wouldn’t have to ask for permits or anything else to get started.
In hindsight, however, I realize that even the choice of the location wasn’t random. For a long time, I had a strong desire to restore an old path lined with dry stone walls, about a hundred meters long, which connects the Path to the designated place for our installation. It had become impassable, covered with shrubs and thorns. This way, we would kill two birds with one stone. We certainly didn’t lack the desire to do it.
We started in the heart of winter 2020 and continued for about six weeks, working tirelessly every weekend. The place was a dense forest of Robinia, Ash, and Hazel trees, and we had to clear everything to create a beautiful and welcoming space.
The days were full, but they were also filled with joy. We worked with dedication while having a lot of laughs, sharing stories, and confiding in each other. It is in moments like these that we discover that the beauty often lies not only in the project itself but also in the shared experience with the people we care about and the atmosphere we breathe along the way.
Lunch breaks were always on-site: a good sandwich in the midst of nature and a piping hot coffee, even if the temperature sometimes dropped below zero.
In the late afternoon, tired and cold, we would descend to the Borgo for a nice cup of hot tea and a well-deserved evening in each other’s company by the warmth of the fireplace, bringing together all our families.
The last weekend was dedicated to cleaning the surroundings of brambles, branches, and trees that were obstructing the Path, as well as repairing the decaying dry stone walls. It required tremendous effort, and our six arms were certainly not enough to finish everything in a week. So, we decided to ask for help, but we already knew who we could rely on: my brother Michele, my cousins Alberto and Daniele, my sister-in-law Barbara, and her partner Anacleto. They are people you may not see or hear from for a long time, but you know that when you need them, they are there.
By the end of the day, the site was shining. The connecting path to the Cammino had been reopened, the forest was tidy and kind, allowing the light to illuminate the site, and the surrounding meadows were already filled with the first flowers that heralded spring (primroses, snowdrops…). Everything seemed to direct our gaze towards our artwork: Flussi di Fese (Flows of Faith).
That moment was magical and unforgettable. The artwork we had created, with its solidity represented by the larger logs at its base, the movement conveyed by the interweaving of branches of different thickness along the curve of the wave, and the spirituality evoked by the slender branches reaching towards the sky like splashes of water, had become a tangible reality.
We had succeeded! Everything we had imagined on that autumn evening in 2020 had become real, a lived experience.
The following day, the last Sunday of the project, we dedicated ourselves to small touch-ups, taking some photos, and resting a bit.
Stefano was photographing the artwork from various angles, while my wife and I tidied up some branches in the nearby forest. Suddenly, we heard our friend shout, warning us of an imminent danger: “ATTENTI, ATTENTI!” Monica and I looked at each other, surprised and frightened, not understanding what was happening. Then we felt strong vibrations approaching, the sound of a large animal running along the slope. We were not mistaken! The deer jumped over the ditch that separated the grove from where we were, swiftly and effortlessly ascending the bank in front of us, revealing its majestic presence. It was a true King of the Forest. It passed about five meters away from us, running in fear and striking the branches along its path with its grand antlers. I remember its gaze vividly. Despite the run, its eyes were fixed on us. It wasn’t looking ahead but at us.
My wife and I were petrified, motionless, enchanted by its elegance and power. It was a magnificent animal emanating incredible energy. Encounters so close, especially in broad daylight, do not happen often. Some attribute these events to chance, others to destiny. Our feeling was that the King of the Forest had come to deliver a message: permission for “Flussi di Fede” to remain in its Kingdom!
The Legend of Saint Christopher:
The true name of Christopher was Reprobus, a giant who desired to serve the strongest king in the world.
Upon arriving at the court of a king who considered himself invincible, he offered his service, but one day he noticed that the king while listening to a minstrel singing a song about the devil, made the sign of the cross. He asked him why, and the king replied that he was afraid of the devil, and every time he heard his name, he made the sign of the cross to seek protection. Intrigued, the giant set out in search of the devil, whom he considered more powerful than his king. It didn’t take long for him to find him, and he began to serve and follow him. However, one day, while passing through a street where there was a cross, the devil changed his path.
Reprobus asked him why he had done so, and the devil was forced to admit that Christ had died on a cross, and in front of the cross, he was compelled to flee in fear. Reprobus then abandoned him and began searching for Jesus Christ. A hermit suggested to him to build a hut near a river with treacherous waters and to use his strength and giant stature to help travelers cross it. Surely, Christ would be pleased with this act, and perhaps one day He would reveal Himself to Reprobus.
One day, the kind-hearted giant heard a child’s voice asking for help. It was a boy who wanted to cross to the other side of the river. The giant lifted him onto his shoulders and began to wade through the tumultuous waters. But as he advanced further into the river, the weight of that frail child increased, to the point that the giant could barely reach the opposite shore with great effort. It was there that the child revealed His true identity: He was Jesus, and the burden the giant had carried was that of the entire world, saved by the blood of Christ.
This legend, besides inspiring Western iconography, led to Saint Christopher being invoked as the patron saint of boatmen, pilgrims, and travelers.
The Artwork
The artwork “Flussi di Fede” aims to represent a specific moment from the legend of the saint, referring to the crossing of a river by Saint Christopher with Jesus Christ on his shoulders.
According to the story, the waters were described as tumultuous and turbulent. The path of the saint was made even more challenging by the weight he carried on his shoulders.
Two stylized waves were created to evoke the power of the waters. Between the waves, a clear and visible passage was left to represent the path of Saint Christopher.
The intention is to give visitors the opportunity to walk between the two waves, hoping to allow them to feel the energy that flows through the artwork and the emotion it can convey.
For its creation, only materials found on-site were used. The area was initially a dense forest but was cleared to create sufficient space and allow for new vegetation to grow.
The larger trunks were used as pillars for the two waves, while the curves were formed by gradually transitioning from thicker materials to thinner branches reaching toward the sky. This technique was employed to give dynamism to the structure and create a sense of movement in the waves.
At the base, hornbeam saplings were planted, surrounding the entire site with the perspective that, as they grow, they will envelop the entire artwork, bringing it to life.
A “fence” has been erected at the back to delineate the pathway, and various types of flowers native to the area have been planted along the riverbank below, aiming to achieve different blooms according to the seasons.
Additionally, several cedar logs have been placed around the creation, serving as seating for walkers and offering them the opportunity to observe the artwork from different angles.
This location was chosen because it overlooks the valley and the houses of the Preplans Hamlet, allowing visitors to admire the beauty of the place and the surrounding nature, while also providing hikers with a moment of rest.
