‘Centimetres do not count’ is the fourth and the last of a series of texts written by Amalia Iavazzo as part of the CtC Writer in Residence (CtC WiR) Programme, launched in October 2017. Over the course of four months, the resident writer contributes short stories, inspired by the image of a contemporary work. For her series, Amalia has chosen artworks she knows nothing about, in order for the narrative to unfold in a spontaneous and unrestricted way.  

Centimetres do not count

“It was a human being of small size.
One of those that cleverly optimise spaces, do not grow much and, for this reason, you decide to bring them home with you more gladly.

Life, the heavenly father or, perhaps, her own mind had taught her to stand up for herself without counting too much on units of measurement.

How weird people that rely on measurement are.
She knew many women, very fierce and very well known for their circumferences.
She knew many men, very fierce and very well known for their lengths.
Who knows how one ends up cheering at night over a handful of centimetres.
Who knows how one ends up in front of a mirror, proud of it.

She ignored this.

Louise, on the contrary, counted on one, scarce meter of height, little hair in the right place and a few other virtues.
She had two short-sighted gems as eyes and a tiny mouth.
No natural privileges. Nothing to go down in history for, nothing she had not conquered alone.
She was okay anyway. She was okay like that.

Nevertheless, she did not completely ignore Mother Nature’s presents made of avarice and disregard; she replied to her by nurturing other gardens, quenching other plants.

At a precise moment of her life, she understood that any person who would have gotten close to her, would have done so aware of saying something interesting. By virtue of this and only this, they would have stayed.
It could have not happened anything else.

She dreamed of a career as useful creature.
She had been so good to motivate herself not to surrender to the social canons, to understand the importance of transferring her unique talent somewhere else.

She loved the idea of being able to be useful.
She desired feeling indispensable for a just cause.
She hated the idea of seeing herself summed up in centimetres and metres.

She emanated energy and security from every pore. She was a loose cannon, full of power and loaded to make the planets shake.

Louise was like that. You could not tell her in centimetres.
Louise, you could express her in watts.

A new year had begun and Louise was looking at the world filling up with sequins.

Who knows how one ends up cheering at night over a handful of sequins.
Who knows how one ends up in front of a mirror, proud of it.

Louise shined in her own way.
She shined of good emotions.”

Amalia Iavazzo

Born and raised in the warmth of the South of Italy, Amalia is 23 and since always cultivates a strong love for words and for all it is possible to create (or destroy) through them. From 9am to 6pm she curates the way big companies communicate around their business. From 6pm to midnight she manages her own company, namely Tutelio, which deals with the protection of author rights at 360 degrees, alongside other professionals of the sector.
Things that make her heart beat are:
– Art aiming to generate change in society, with the goal of explaining otherwise complex subjects. Direct art. Art as human improvement. Art as beauty.
– Travelling to unknown, unconventional and not-specified places. Travelling with a flexible and variable itinerary. Leaving for a day and coming back after six.
– Listening to thoughts of big historical characters, listening to the sea and to children.
– Writing about herself, which is useful to better understand her own mind. Writing about others and the world, to appreciate the cosmos.
– Titans. She unconditionally loves people that, once defeated, perseverate and do not give up, by any means following their own values.

Original text in Italian. English translation by Miriam La Rosa


Sebastian Bieniek, Doublefaced n.4, (2013). Source: http://thestudiovisit.com/sebastian-bieniek/


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