I spent years and years focussing on a single mission: fighting for a water-tight, compartmentalised life. After all, Scorpio is my zodiac sign.
Probably many of you – including me – don’t give a shit about zodiac signs. But there is one thing in particular about astrology and the people who love it so much to write about it that always made me smile: the obsessive care they take to highlight how much Scorpios are “a little bit too much” of everything and do “a little bit too much” of everything.

They say that Scorpios love too much. They cry too much and laugh too much. They try too hard.


Me while leaving for a weekend away, trying not to take too much lagguages with me.
By shooting randomly, once in a while you can kill someone. And in this regard the Scorpio profile fits me perfectly.
This “a little bit too much” thing always pushed me forward and pulled me back at the same time. I loved so much that I ended up in the hospital. I cried so much that I ended up in the hospital. I pushed myself in sports so much that I ended up in the hospital. I even ate so much that I ended up in the hospital. In the end I gave up and I started working for a hospital.
Well, let’s make this long story short. Me being “a little bit too much” has always heavily influenced my choices and my life as a whole. Because when you do a little bit too much of something you end up forgetting about a lot of other things.
Each time it’s the same old story: if an island collapses, all the other islands follow suit.
I could have considered this phenomenon acceptable and normal, except that it happened with the same frequency my dog Pez barks when she sees the postman.
Hence I designed a water-tight, compartmentalised life plan. I thought that if I managed to isolate all the compartments in my life the “a little bit too much” virus wouldn’t have attacked all of them at the same time.

I progressively isolated every single aspect of my life. I tied myself in duct tape so tightly that, in the end, I couldn’t even hear my own heartbeat.


My bath ducks, keeping distance to each others during the process of progressive isolation.
But, let’s be honest. It was obvious that it was too much. I had to let it go. Expectedly, I let go everything, and all at once.
In the exact moment I let go, I was able to see my islands in colour again, moving along a synchronised symphony. I was able to see the whole picture, and I understood that I wanted to see that picture for the rest of my life. When I welcomed the complexity that defines me and I accepted the risk of seeing everything collapse, nothing was collapsing anymore.
This is what fascinates me, inspires me, and above all makes me feel free about being an Art Director. The chance to welcome and coordinate an endless plurality of arts, styles, and professionals, all contributing in synergy to make the bigger picture the best possible one.

This truly makes me feel free. Free to accept myself.