Francesco Urbano Ragazzi
Théo Mario Coppola
I D D U
89+ Instagram Takeover
Nov. 17-23, 2014
An Instagram novel
curated by Francesco Urbano Ragazzi
I D D U is the story of a French-Italian traveler who did the Great Tour of Italy and reached Stromboli, in the Aeolian Islands. Classic writer, fascinated by the lights and the violence of mediterranean landscapes, our main character explores the social life vortex, condition of its literary experiments.
“Sophisticated yachts had followed a chrom-plated migration move in Mediterranean Sea to reach the northern end of Aeolian Islands. Captains advised by their smart masters travelled during miles to reach the god of winds’ island. Those precious fridges on carrier waves anchored in Piscità coastal waters.”
“On this afternoon, a delighted procession of small fresh-white boats carrying elegant women and melancholic gentlemen docked on the dense and dark sand of Spiaggia Lunga. On this particular summer, the whole fashionable society was reunited on Stromboli.”
“There were two big Grands Hotels on the island. The first one, the Bellaggio was frequented by noble families and rich artists from Paris, Milano, St Moritz or London. This small world, reunited in the lounge, having a spritz, admired throughout the bow window the volcano crackles or the crowds of tourists.”
“The Bellaggio had a je ne sais quoi of the Cabourg Grand Hôtel. White and beige linens, old fashioned boater hats. Smallness of action. Greatness of gesture.”
“The other main resort was located in Piscità, the artists and intellectuals neighbourhood. The so-called Belvédère gathered an enigmatic and wild fauna.”
“Whereas the Bellaggio clients were enjoying the hotel accommodations, the Belvédère ones were reaching bars, terraces. On the places, in the gardens, impromptu performances were given, and observed by narrow-minded doubtful tourists as others, fascinated attended to the sessions all the afternoon long.”
“Arrived at the very start of the season, and accompanied by my preceptor, I get the chance to contemplate the several migration flows and the bicolored sailboats grouped at Fico Grande. I was simply enjoying the scene, under the shade of a Bougainvillea”.
Artists, writers, philosophers, curators, society people and extravagants socialised with joy and confusion at Barbablu or at Pardès.”
“Sometimes, an Italian nobleman joined our assembly to lend its yacht for a special event. As Antiparros was by now abandoned, Aeolian islands had become the most fashionable archipelago of the Mediterranean Sea, except from Alicudi and Filicudi frequented by hermits and sceptics.”
“On the San Lorenzo night, a piano concert was organised at the Grotta do Eolo. The canopy of heaven was such a sublime show while lasers and lights irradiated the cave walls. In the nighttime, a marvelous plankton cloud attracted by Schubert’s andantino enlivened the grey sea.”
“They were dark in the lonely night through the shadow from an alley to an other street to get to the low street and reach the Iddu Club that brought together in the same place extravagant characters lacking in thrills until the dawn.”
“The inhabitants, scarred or amused, were observing with no clue this bizarre scene. This island of fishermen, brought to celebrity by Roberto Rossellini and Bergman was not the desolated cone of past anymore. Eolo, by domesticating its winds had lost against Dionysius.”
“By now, only the cold and early dawns and the terrible winters belonged to whom at once took off the island in the vain hope of a successful fishing. The fish-filled waters less troubled by fishermen and the more frequented beaches has drawn a new destiny.”
“Social nausea came back and I was already full of regrets about the autumn fires and the lonesome climbings to the old cemetery.”
“Is there a place where beauty has not been replaced by taste and elegance? Shall I stay quiet or shall I leave the island for ever? The landscape printed on a screen and its brutality vanished at last. Chloé is telling me not to leave.”
“This morning, luggages accrued on trolleys and in the Belvédère’s hall, young people were waiting for their in hurry arents. Iddu has awaken and the island was leaved. The island can easy be betrayed but the Earth depths had other plans”.
“Since the last three days, the volcano is spreading rivers of lava on the Sciara del Fuoco slopes that create huge vapor on the surface of the water. Bellaggio is now closed and restaurants are empty. A. says that nature takes its course but I rather think fear is the strongest force.”
“Boats left the island at noon. Of course there are small private boats but I can’t possibly leave the island. I go on writing in my diary. Sometimes, I think about climbing but the head of the hotel is watching us. A yacht sank. Then, nothing. I stay at the Belvédère.”
“The tempest held me during two more weeks. Days has declined. We are four at the Belvédère. Remembering the past and dining aren’t enough to entertain. We consider this moment as the very last one. Tomorrow evening, I would be on the ferry to Naples.”
