Sculptor Antonella Grazzi in conversation with Marina Spironetti.

I couldn’t have chosen a greyer day for my first meeting with Antonella Grazzi, almost a year ago. I arrived in Praso one morning in late autumn beneath a milky-white sky, my thoughts clouded over and my hands and feet frozen.

Antonella welcomed me in her working clothes, eye-catching yellow earmuffs around her neck, brushing off the sawdust that clung lightly all over her, from her hair to her clothes.

In the intimate space of her workshop, the warm light and scent of the pine wood quickly dispelled all memory of the harsh weather outdoors. Tools hung on the walls in orderly rows, interspersed with sketches — bodies, faces, intertwined hands. On the worktable lay a chainsaw, freshly powered off, next to a block of wood from which the lines of a female figure were gradually emerging — the soft curves of her hips, hair falling in waves down her back, the contours of her face barely hinted at yet already dignified.

All it took was a look around to see that women are at the heart of Antonella’s work, from the clay models on a shelf to the drawings scattered over the table. In a shadowy corner was another wooden sculpture of a girl, sitting down with her hair tied back. Simple, elegant, with an air that reminded me of Degas’ studies on paper for his Little Dancer. 

So, why women? “It all springs from a deep suffering. The fatigue of carving out a space in the world for yourself and reconciling it with everything else. With the family and children I wanted to have, with my work”, she explained. She told me how her path hasn’t been an easy one, with never enough hours in the day. Sometimes, to get everything done, you need twice as much time as a man does. “A woman carries a lot of burdens on her shoulders, she’s naturally inclined to bear them. At the same time though, she has an open mind, she gives form to the world”. And Antonella in turn gives form to her creations, rough-cutting blocks of wood with chainsaw and angle grinder, until her arms grow heavy with the strain, before venturing deeper into the timber with a fine knife and scalpel for imperceptibly nuanced carvings.

The women I sculpt fold you into their arm“The women I sculpt are rounded, welcoming. They fold you into their arms, they give you everything. They have great serenity, holding onto their femininity and kindness without compromising on strength, determination, pride. I really like their style, they’re tough women!”, she exclaimed.

When we caught up with a video call last summer, she told me about a new project — a full-length male figure, this time. Her feminine sensibility, however, was still present. “I'm doing this job for a collective exhibition. Each artist has to depict one person, and I chose Padre Fabrizio Forti, the prison chaplain in Trento and founder of the Capuchin food bank. I met him many years ago, when I was doing music therapy. He was always there for the marginalised, whether the poor, the imprisoned or the mentally ill”.

I only take the little I think I’ll need

Antonella needed a suitable kind of wood, eventually choosing a 120-year-old block of pine wood, capable of registering even the smallest details. “I hope I’ll be able to recreate that expression he always had, his light”. Her face lit up with a broad smile. 

She works with many types of wood — from linden wood, which she loves for its colour, to birch and larch. Then there are the hardwoods – walnut wood, apple wood, pear wood — with which it’s vital not to force your hand too much. “They’re hard work, but they're stunning”, she said. And of course there’s holly, whose bright whiteness “brings with it almost the sense of marble”. 

Marble itself is another of Antonella’s loves. Its “softer” nature makes it easier to work with than other, harder stones like granite. And it brings her immense satisfaction, particularly when she polishes it to a gleam that seems offered as thanks. “I feel at home with wood, at my ease. Stone, on the other hand, could crack at any minute, pieces could break off. You're on uncertain ground. You have to work carefully, at a different speed”.

The stones she uses — like the wood — are almost always those local to her area, which she often finds during her long walks through the valleys. She chooses boulders that inspire her — for their shape, colour or energy. 

“I only take the little I think I’ll need, with respect for the natural world around me. Then I keep them here for a while, looking at them, allowing them to inspire me. And I wait until the time is right to get to grips with them”.

My world is everything to meNow that she no longer works and her children are grown, time is one thing she has plenty of. At last. And Antonella has restless hands, always looking for something to do, whether in her workshop or in the garden. I reminded her of how our first meeting ended, when she presented me with a parting gift of two bags of jam, grape juice and walnuts. People who live in close contact with nature, who have roots in the land itself, seem to me to have a keen perception of everything. 

“My world is everything to me”, she said as we wrapped up our video call. “You’ll never see me anywhere else. Here with my tomatoes and vegetables, the vines and the flowers on the balcony. I think this too is a way of making a connection, finding meaning”.