It would appear to be a scene from everyday life, the vision of a figure widey striding diagonally across the upper part of the road.
It would appear, we said, to be a gesture of normal ordinariness - if the figure didn’t wield, to accompany his strides, a large wicker armchair, accompanied by a beautiful flower cushion - and he does so with the same indifference as those who carry a purse or a bunch of keys or whatever devilry weighs down the pockets of a man's pants.
The last stride takes him to a parking space; he settles the armchair in the centre, sits comfortably, crosses his legs and smiles. The wait will be short, but these are the small courtesies that occur in the human consortium in the Borgo in the city centre.
We met him, together with the Urban District of Commerce, so he can tell us the story of his business.
He is waiting for us under his shop’s hand-painted antique green sign. Above, in elegant cursive, his name and that of his wife remind passers-by that within those walls, between wood and paint, there is a beautiful story to tell.
He has always been a framer, since he was fifteen when he went to the Nespoli’s shop, historical craftsmen in the same street, and under the severe and careful guidance of his grandfather Mauro he learned the trade.
"Back then you stole work," says Giulio; but only with the eyes. The teachers were of few words and it was necessary to watch - attentive - every movement, every gesture, in order to really learn.
But if manual skills are assimilated with the eyes, it is the heart that nourishes taste and talent.
Frames secure precious possessions. There are artists who seek safe spaces for their art and ordinary people who bring newspaper clippings, old and ruined photos, things often of little economic value but of inestimable emotional value. Everyone asks for the same sensitive and competent gaze.
Giulio is a traveller. He has travelled far and wide in Latin America, then his curiosity took him to South East Asia. In fact, it is in Yangon - the capital of Burma - that somehow his destiny was decided. There he met Thandar Kyi, who would become his wife at Easter the following year.
"I arrived in Italy on the day of Saint Lucia, under a beautiful snowfall," says Giulio without hiding a big smile. It was the first time she had seen snow. "I still have in mind the grimace of pain mixed with wonder in her face when she touched it."
Since then they have been side by side, in life and in work. Thandar is endowed with a surprising manual skill set and brings with her the creativity and the ability to solve problems typical of her people.
"It is no coincidence that I am entrusting certain messy jobs to her," says Giulio with satisfaction.
Both share the importance of continuing to learn. While he updates on new techniques and materials, she takes her stylist diploma and starts her own fashion atelier above the frame shop.
They learned that life gives you unexpected paths and that these often conceal the best for you.
So, they walk side by side and today, holding their first two grandchildren Gabriele and Samuele by the hand, they look forward with serenity and confidence - whatever will be will be for them, as it has been so far.
There is only one thing on which Giulio is not inclined to change his mind, that paintings should be hung at eye level. Only in this way can you fully enjoy them.
It would appear to be a scene from everyday life, the vision of a figure widey striding diagonally across the upper part of the road.
It would appear, we said, to be a gesture of normal ordinariness - if the figure didn’t wield, to accompany his strides, a large wicker armchair, accompanied by a beautiful flower cushion - and he does so with the same indifference as those who carry a purse or a bunch of keys or whatever devilry weighs down the pockets of a man's pants.
The last stride takes him to a parking space; he settles the armchair in the centre, sits comfortably, crosses his legs and smiles. The wait will be short, but these are the small courtesies that occur in the human consortium in the Borgo in the city centre.
We met him, together with the Urban District of Commerce, so he can tell us the story of his business.
He is waiting for us under his shop’s hand-painted antique green sign. Above, in elegant cursive, his name and that of his wife remind passers-by that within those walls, between wood and paint, there is a beautiful story to tell.
He has always been a framer, since he was fifteen when he went to the Nespoli’s shop, historical craftsmen in the same street, and under the severe and careful guidance of his grandfather Mauro he learned the trade.
"Back then you stole work," says Giulio; but only with the eyes. The teachers were of few words and it was necessary to watch - attentive - every movement, every gesture, in order to really learn.
But if manual skills are assimilated with the eyes, it is the heart that nourishes taste and talent.
Frames secure precious possessions. There are artists who seek safe spaces for their art and ordinary people who bring newspaper clippings, old and ruined photos, things often of little economic value but of inestimable emotional value. Everyone asks for the same sensitive and competent gaze.
Giulio is a traveller. He has travelled far and wide in Latin America, then his curiosity took him to South East Asia. In fact, it is in Yangon - the capital of Burma - that somehow his destiny was decided. There he met Thandar Kyi, who would become his wife at Easter the following year.
"I arrived in Italy on the day of Saint Lucia, under a beautiful snowfall," says Giulio without hiding a big smile. It was the first time she had seen snow. "I still have in mind the grimace of pain mixed with wonder in her face when she touched it."
Since then they have been side by side, in life and in work. Thandar is endowed with a surprising manual skill set and brings with her the creativity and the ability to solve problems typical of her people.
"It is no coincidence that I am entrusting certain messy jobs to her," says Giulio with satisfaction.
Both share the importance of continuing to learn. While he updates on new techniques and materials, she takes her stylist diploma and starts her own fashion atelier above the frame shop.
They learned that life gives you unexpected paths and that these often conceal the best for you.
So, they walk side by side and today, holding their first two grandchildren Gabriele and Samuele by the hand, they look forward with serenity and confidence - whatever will be will be for them, as it has been so far.
There is only one thing on which Giulio is not inclined to change his mind, that paintings should be hung at eye level. Only in this way can you fully enjoy them.
