Spanish Santa knows it best

When Xmas is over A is still receiving presents ... this one comes from spain!

I think this fashionable Santa somehow came to know I was desperately looking for something to wear for the new year's eve...

I must say I couln't wish for something Ravieli-er than this.

You curious?

Stay tuned!

I'm just letting you get a little peek...

Love, A

DUST - Away from modernity, yet amazingly contemporary.

DUST è polvere. E' l'evanescente nuvola di polvere che s'alza,spazzata via dalla superficie delle belle copertine tutte patinate.

Rimane lì a mezza'aria, fuori. Fuori dalle dinamiche censuranti e bigotte di un mercato di massa che mira ad appiattire le menti, proponendo stereotipi triti e ritriti. Fuori da tempismi di collezione e costrizioni di marketing.

Fuori dalla modernità, eppure incredibilmente contemporaneo.


DUST è fuori, libero, slegato. Pagine intrise di una sottocultura urbana che esiste, che guarda il mondo attraverso quel raggio di luce mattutina che taglia la penombra delle nostre tane e svela, in tutta la loro poesia, migliaia di piccoli corpuscoli che altrimenti non vedremmo.

E' lo spaccato di luce in cui prendono vita grafiche e immagini ruvide, di un realismo talvolta dissacrante. Carta vetrata che consuma i moralismi fino a farceli vedere per ciò che realmente sono, polvere.

DUST è dove nascono le idee. Lì nella polverosa sostanza dell'arte. E' il mentre, l'opera non finita, più che mai satura del suo significato.
La moda in questo contesto è parte integrante, è anch'essa arte.

Artisti emergenti da ogni dove, qualunque sia la loro espressione, possono parlarci del loro "bello", liberi di farci inorridire, spaventare, disgustare, divertire, intrigare o innamorare. Il tutto accompagnato da approfondimenti e interviste.

DUST magazine è un pozzo di emozioni giovani, fatto da menti giovani.

Diretto da Luca Guarini,con Antonio Mingot, Luigi Vitali ed Emanuela Amato, e sponsorizzato da FrankieMorello, è prevista l'uscita del n°0 per Gennaio 2011.

Io, non me lo faccio scappare.

A

DUST is the vanishing cloud of dust that rises up, swept off by the surface of all the beautiful slick covers.

It remains there,out at midair. Outside the dynamics of censure of the mass market that aims to flatten the minds, suggesting corny stereotypes. Outside the timing of collections and marketing pressures.

Away from modernity, yet amazingly contemporary.

DUST is out, free, unchained. Pages soaked of a urban subculture that exists, which looks at the world through that beam of light that cuts through the morning twilight of our dens and reveals, in all its poetry, thousands of small particles that would otherwise not be seen.

In this cross-section of light where rough images and graphics of irreverent realism come to life. Sandpaper that consumes up moralism to let us see what it is actually made of, powder.

DUST is where ideas are born. There in the dusty substance of art. While the work is not finished, more saturated than ever of its meaning.
Fashion in this context is an integral part, is also art.

Emerging Artists from all over, regardless of their expression, can tell us about their "beautiful" (with insights and interviews too), free horrify, frighten, disgust, amuse, intrigue us or make us fall in love with

DUST magazine is a well of young emotions, made by young minds.

Directed by Luca Guarini, with Mingote Antonio, Luigi Vitale and Emanuela Amato, and sponsored by FrankieMorello, is due out of the No. 0 in January 2011.

I will not miss it.

A

DUST from Luca Guarini on Vimeo.

Paperstuff

Freek mag cover

When I accepted to model for Tania alineri I couldn't imagine I was going to end up on the cover of a magazine! Lol

Actually, seen the amazing talent she has I should have expected it!

A

PROANALOG

In&Out&About

Youth is something very new:

twenty years ago no one mentioned it.

Coco Chanel

Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up interest wrinkles the soul. You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear; as young as your hope as old as your despair. In the central place of every heart there is a recording chamber. So long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer and courage, so long are you young. When your heart is covered with the snows of pessimism and the ice of cynicism, then, and then only, are you grown old. And then, indeed as the ballad says, you just fade away.

To me, fair friend, you never can be old

For as you were when first your eye I eyed,

Such seems your beauty still.

William Shakespeare