Henri Fabre.

A made a pilgrimage to the city of Serignan in the blazing heat of the Provencal summer. The house-museum of the poet and entomologist J.H. Fabre offered his naturalist collections, his observation instruments, the heirlooms of his lifetime and, above all, the hovering PRESENCE of the vastness of his soul. My puddles of aqueous pigment and bulimic brushstrokes attempted to make a mesmeric contact.

Stefano Faravelli

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