Nunzia is an eighty-year-old woman, lucid and talkative despite the complexity of her clinical picture — peritoneal carcinoma and other complications. She wears a catheter, suffers from dyspnea, and is constantly accompanied by the presence of her children, both adults but with significant vulnerabilities. They take turns visiting her each day, pouring onto her the weight of their difficulties and deepening her worries.
Nunzia speaks with a strong accent and often lapses into dialect, enriching her stories with expressions that remain partly mysterious to me but reveal her deep bond with her origins. Her anxiety is palpable, rooted in the fear of leaving her children alone — children she considers fragile and incapable of facing life without her. Despite their closeness, Nunzia feels profoundly alone.
Markers and large sheets
Nunzia has chosen markers and large sheets of paper as her means of telling her stories. She creates landscapes, still lifes, portraits, Madonnas and Saints, transforming her room into an explosion of color and vitality. Each work becomes a tangible testimony to her resilience, an attempt to fill the emotional and physical void she senses around her.
When she prepares to work, she shifts the oxygen cannula from her head and lowers her glasses to concentrate more fully. She devotes particular care to the success of each piece and awaits me anxiously every day to complete three or four consecutive works. Our encounter is punctuated by her call: “Micheeeeela, are you coming?!” — to which I respond promptly, aware that it is not merely about bringing materials, but about offering presence, listening, and support.
Between Nunzia and me, a deep and reciprocal relationship has formed. While she fills the sheets with detail and color, I hang them on the walls like trophies, acknowledging the therapeutic value of what she is creating. She attributes an important role to me in her journey, and I see in her works an extraordinary power.
Filling every space
Nunzia fills the sheets densely with lines, marks, details, and words, as though seeking to symbolically bridge the void she perceives within herself. Her hands tremble, but this does not stop her: every blank space is covered, as if to exorcise the fear, the intrusive thoughts, and the anxiety that grip her.
Her art becomes a means of confronting and containing her deepest concerns — from the management of the house to the fate of her belongings in her absence. Many of her works are dedicated to her children or to me, a gesture that reflects her need for solid emotional bonds and a sense of family to sustain her in this most difficult time. Each dedication is an implicit message, a plea for closeness and emotional support.
Three weeks
The journey lasts three weeks. The relationship with the family will grow closer with her son, who shows a greater capacity for connection. With her daughter, the interactions will remain largely formal.
Art therapy proved a powerful tool for Nunzia, offering her a space in which to express her fears, process the sense of impending loss, and find refuge in artistic creation. This path not only momentarily bridged her sense of solitude, but allowed her to leave a tangible trace of herself — a symbolic legacy that transcends the boundaries of illness and fragility.