Mario Artioli Tavani, sculptorMe, Mario Artioli Tavani, sculptor.

Mario Cavaradossi, painter (Puccini’s Tosca), in Tuscany he sings “I lived of Art”.
The path of my existence is sopped up mostly in the colour as well , but also sculpted actually from “fire and iron”.
But that’s just me, with no presumption, I’m just Mario Artioli Tavani, the small “little man of smoke” like that light and evanescent of Aldo Palazzeschi code’s Perela.
The little smoke man, always looking for his daily conversation with iron as well trying to let it fly together with smoke and butterflies, like poor Saint Francesco who spoke with earth and sky’s creatures.
Life asks us big sacrifices, in order to call it life and worthwhile I work near a creek’s river, because water is essential, because my creations, my works are nature’s creatures (mother and teacher, told Leonardo Da Vinci) “o nate per immersione entro la terra – born for immersion in the earth” in plants in meadows, in flowers and in water.
My atelier is a volcano’s forge, between water drops and myriads of sparkling stars, my iron’s creatures grow and they fly softly and silently up in the air trying to reach sky and earth where they originated.