Stefano Maria Ricatti is a composer. And an instrumentalist; a teacher; a karateka; a sailor; a tennis player. A friend. We are happy to chat when we meet. Many topics. Even music, despite the disproportion of knowledge. But I like to listen and learn.
Here is a report of moments in a morning spent in his studio, before dedicating ourselves, body and soul, to pasta and artichokes, plus a glass of excellent red wine and a recommended dessert from the bakery nearby. I cannot claim to have fully grasped everything Stefano has told in the time spent together (and the time is
available in finite quantities). What follows are only reflections; flashes that I have been able to catch. Like those glares that, when strolling, make you catch glimpse of a window that opens, a showcase under a portico, a glass and a carafe placed on a tray. Of course: the surroundings are much more than that. Varied. Beautiful. But unnoticed in the shade.
For what concerns the shade, I have regrets but no faults; for what appeared in flashes, any possible mistake is mine and only mine.
It was a beautiful October morning.
For what concerns the shade, I have regrets but no faults; for what appeared in flashes, any possible mistake is mine and only mine.
It was a beautiful October morning.