27.05.2016 - Depero loved Serrada and to Serrada he devoted various and beautiful works. His was an enthusiastic love, dating back to the First World War. In 1920 to the town favored by the Roveretani he dedicated verses full of admiration.
The Serradini have not forgotten the distinguished guest, they have always cultivated the memory. For a long time they dedicated him Futurist Carnival, an event that in recent years has evolved into Futurist Serrada, a week of futurist events falling on the first half of August: futurist is the snack, futurist dinner, futurist walks among meadows, futurist aperitif, futurist final show!
Info www.serrada.it
Serrada 1920
‘Serrada offers an eternally changing landscape. In the summer it’s a prairie, a green relaxing hollow surrounded by rumps of mountains, by descending rocky flights of steps, sometimes soothing and sometimes sheer. Within legions of fir trees and among platoons of pines and larches, there lies the little village in lookout post: onion tower and nose up. The church expects quietly the faithful, the cemetery listens in silence, it is square and resigned and has all crosses with extended arms. In autumn meadows, fields and woods fill with ploughs, scythes, hatches and oxen under the yoke. The earth turns black and spots of beneficial tubers appear, like blond cobblestones. The dry pace of the woodcutter echoes in the forest. Larches turn yellow, beeches redden and plain bushes turn bloody. Blackbirds and thrushes whoosh past, the finch soars and the lark, still in the blue, sings the dazzling light. Serrada in the winter offers a polar landscape. From the white sheet arise skeletons of glass and multiple ghostly hands. Every bone and every finger have their own piece of candor. The northern wind arrives galloping, the sun riding with eyes of phosphorus, with manes of gold and silver trappings. Neighing blinding. The wide sheet is a mirror and the sky with inverted houses are reflected in turquoise. The skier is fascinating: he spreads his arms to hold his wings in the wind. With the blades of the ski on his feet he carves the space like a parallel razor. His rail airplane, straight, curved and zig zag is perfect. The human bolide moves between gorgeous plumes of snow, between bright shining powder puffs, holding the volatile balance. An angel descends from the firmament secure in space with the light that it halos, radiant in this authentic prism of poetry.’
From: Fortunato Depero nelle opere e nella vita, 1940 (free translation)
