Varco di Biancospino

In the Varco di Biancospino wallpaper I have stopped the moment when a hedge opens and lets the world it guards be glimpsed. I am the breach itself, the point where the dense tangle of hawthorn thins out and allows the eye to travel beyond its own weave.

In the foreground I bring every detail the eye could wish for: lobed leaves, old wood, fine thorns, dewdrops held on the edge of a leaf, a thread of ivy fading among the branches. It is living matter, botanically exact, rendered with the patience of someone watching an English garden at dawn. Beyond the opening, instead, I become distance: rough grass, a second, lower hedge of hazel and blackthorn, trees dissolving into a morning haze the colour of chalk and stone.

My palette is born of green itself — moss, fern, box, sage — and fades into almost black shadows at the heart of the hedge, where the foliage turns green-black. It is a light that seems to come from beyond the mist, able to illuminate the nearest twigs while leaving the rest in a cool, composed shade.

I think of this image as a silent threshold for those who work: a space that breathes, where the mind can cross the density of the everyday and glimpse, beyond the obstacle, a quiet horizon. A wallpaper made to return, every day, that sense of depth and natural order. At WallZad every nuance of this wood has been calibrated by hand, so that the print keeps the same diffused light and the same depth I wanted to hold in this opening.