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With Sara. In her lines.

There is a photograph of Sara in which she shyly covers her face with a large green leaf. Three large palms long and at least two wide. It is beautiful and symmetrical and has a green forest-like flap except for the thick vein, which from petiole to apex, divides it and branches into lighter shades. The leaf completes Sara, but when he moves her delicacy explodes. “Gosh, you look beautiful,” I thought the first time I saw her. I did not say it out loud because precious, rare thoughts must be treasured. There are some things in life that need to be said, some things that need to be written down. And the voice does not do justice to such a gentle touch as his, the words in print remain. Smiling face and fine features like his drawings. Of goodness his eyes speak, of strength his gesticulation, restrained but precise. If it is true that “strong is he who treats others gently,” Sara is mighty.

I could describe his work for hours but there is no need; it speaks for itself. Also, my job should be to tell you who Sara is and what she does. Therefore, in case some fools did not understand the power of his art already in the first paragraph, I try to summarize in a more concrete way (which in this case is the worst of all possible ways) what he does.

First, it should be made clear that Sara is an artist. And like all great artists, this impulse of hers is “something she’s carried since she was a little girl,” she says, and “something she’s carried since birth,” I say. So is his connection with nature. To make it simple I could tell you that Sara draws. But that would not be true because she is an artist. And they are different things. Sara is first and foremost a hard worker, who in the midst of all these lines has also managed to wedge in a full-time job as a Designer for Wild Country, a well-known climbing brand. On the human side, however, Sara expresses herself, and the drawing is a beautiful consequence of that, but it could also become something else. What I mean, what I think I understand, is that in the final composition of her works, it is not so much the finished painting that matters, but rather the lines that allowed her to express herself by arriving at that one final design, chosen from endless possible variations. On the technical side, however, if I have to speak as a graphic designer and photographer, I am embarrassed by her talent. Making a good composition when shooting, especially in the mountains where elements are in constant motion, is complex. Thinking about illustrating a mountain photograph, already composed and taken by a third person (the author), requires superior technical skills.

And before I tell you about the project in collaboration with Cober aimed at raising awareness and informing about the issue of glacier melting, I make a parenthesis related to the mighty force I mentioned a few lines ago. If you are reading The Pill, you are probably a runner, skier, cyclist, hiker, or something else, and you have certainly learned in your years in the mountains to fully understand the meaning of distances.

In July this year, Sara drew her lines along the 100-meter finish line of the Dolomites Marathon. Technique: chalk on asphalt. 100 meters is what Bolt ran in 9”58; she drew every thousandth of that time. There are at least three pitches in the wall. 100 meters of elevation gain can affect, and by a lot, whether or not you reach the summit. 100 meters is a lot.

I saw the video that was stolen from her during the performance. A figure as slender, agile and delicate as his plants moves between ephemeral lines, destined to disappear. In the five hours it took to complete the painting, to the point of covering every meter, he didn’t just draw. I reiterate. In that infinite space-time of hers Sara expressed herself. And I was moved. His hands do not move; his whole body moves. A delicate dance of which no trace will remain. Essential lines carried away, one after another, by the passage of cyclists. Smudged lines, eventually erased, yet eternal.

(And I know some of you are thinking I am exaggerating. But, either you are reading the wrong magazine, or you haven’t seen the video, or you don’t know Sara. Either way, you could and should remedy this).

He is not so different from those who, his tracks, draw them in the mountains.

*Herbarium is the project from which it all started-not coincidentally “herbarium,” which probably comes from the ancient Persian “asparag” means, precisely, sprout. But his art, like his plants, evolved further. I find it such a simple concept, what Sara is gently shouting, that I feel embarrassed that I did not understand it before. It is necessary to have confidence in sprouts, tiny though capable of surviving harsh winters. Microscopic signs of life capable of growing huge trees under which, one day, to rest. Origin of plants with giant forest-green leaves, witnesses to a miracle, living to make the plant live or, as Sara likes it, useful for shyly covering her face.

To tell you about the collaboration with Cober (a company that manufactures poles and poles for outdoor activities) it is only fair that you know that, from the very beginning, it has been distinguished by its commitment to choices that were sustainable for the environment all and, in particular, for the mountain environment. Taking into account that Cober’s debut was seventy years ago, calling it a visionary brand seems the least.

The three t-shirts made of organic cotton and handmade screen printing, the result of the winning collaboration between Cober and Sara, are part of the capsule collection *herbarium x Cober carried out within “The Art of Skiing”, a project developed by the company itself with the aim of tightening the link between mountains, sports and art. Inmates and inmates from Turin’s Lorusso Cotugno prison worked on the garment making. An extra focus that demonstrates, once again, the brand’s regard for social and environmental issues, as well as its interest in promoting ethical fashion. The lines Sara drew on that virgin cotton depict three endangered species: Cardamine resedifolia L., Minuartia sedoides L., Gnaphalium supinum L.

Once again Sara did what she does best: drawing lines. This time he sprouted them on the shots of Maurizio Marassi, photographer and outstanding athlete. I did not think it was possible to improve certain images, and yet it seems that Sara has added something to the photographer’s vision, lightening it. Inserting to remove. Completing the work. How he does it remains a mystery. And that’s right.

Since its lines are not delineated by finite points, the project evolved as was to be expected. The ramifications of his plants ended up taking root all the way to the Trento Film Festival, in an exhibition organized and curated in collaboration with photographer Matteo Pavana and researcher Gianalberto Losapio.

Neither Sara nor Matthew are kids capable of doing things without meaning. They did not draw random lines on beautiful pictures, they dug in and questioned themselves because they are part of those strange individuals who can still ask questions. A famous guy once said that “The problem with philosophers and artists is that they ask questions about things that most of the world does not understand the answers to.” Personally, I don’t find it a big problem. Their survey shows how pioneer species follow glaciers in their retreat, highlighting how once these disappear, the diversity of plant species will decrease. And up to 22 percent of the 118 species analyzed could disappear forever, locally or everywhere. That is why “The Echo Of Glaciers” is the name of the collection in collaboration with Cober. “Echo,” not “reverberation” or “rumble,” is the word of choice. Like the reflection of a returning sound, evocative of the wailing of glaciers during the weeping of the end: the final melting. A cry for help to all humanity.

To all these printed images, masterpieces that frame these words (or perhaps the other way around), I don’t want to add more. Sara’s lines sprout over Maurizio and Matteo’s photographs to tell the story of plant species that may become extinct along with the glaciers. I repeat though, GERMOGLIAN, and by now we all know that if life restarts, it does so from those microscopic miracles.