Mistretta was selected as a finalist to become the Italian Capital of the Book 2025-Sicily

The echoes of the inauguration of The Sea Road mural in Torremuzza have barely faded, and the Halaesa-Nebrodi territory is already enriched by another important and evocative work of art: "Noi: Inizio di una nuova vita" (Us: Beginning of a New Life), by Antonino Lipari, known to all of us as Nino.

We are in Mistretta, within the majestic municipal park named after Giuseppe Garibaldi, and the artwork stands where, until recently, a magnificent Norway Spruce (Picea abies) once proudly stood. The cycle of life accustoms us to its fluctuating rhythm, where life precedes death, and death — sometimes — generates life. And so, after several centuries of silent and undisturbed existence, the fir tree became irreversibly diseased to the point that, to safeguard public safety, the city authorities decreed its removal about a year ago.

The community began to wonder how to fill the large void left by the impending demise of the majestic tree. While initiatives were being considered, the administrators decided to completely trim its crown, which was by then irreparably diseased, and to preserve the vast majority of its trunk, which was healthy enough to envision reusing the resulting timber.

An Unexpected Gift

Then, at a certain point, a young carpenter from Mistretta, Nino Lipari, knocked on the mayor's door. With his characteristic politeness, he suggested carving an artwork, a sculpture, from the remaining trunk: "I'll take care of everything," Nino said, "and I don't want to be paid."

It must be said that Nino is not new to the art of wood carving; in the past, through private commissions, he had already demonstrated artistic skills that transcend those of a simple, albeit very skilled, artisan. But now things became decidedly more serious, and he would have to put himself out there, exposing his work to public judgment. Yet Nino was confident; he knew what he was doing, had clear ideas, and possessed the skills to realize them. Thus, he immediately gained the mayor's trust, and work began just a few months after the tree's removal.

Access to the left avenue leading to the central square of the park was closed, opaque nets were put up, and simultaneously, the curiosity of passersby grew. They could barely glimpse scaffolding, the outline of the fir trunk, and Nino moving around it, but nothing more. The work lasted several months, and finally, on the evening of August 11th, the artwork was inaugurated, coinciding with the restoration of the lighting of the main gate of the municipal park.

"Noi": A Symbol of Love and Renewal

Noi blossomed at dusk on a pleasant August evening, contrasting with the sad days of the cutting of the majestic mother-plant that had held it in its womb for three centuries. In this journey that intertwines life with death, and allows death to generate life, Nino sensed the presence, in that trunk otherwise destined for the sadness of abandonment, oblivion, if not destruction, of an opportunity for rebirth and regeneration that could take shape through his hands, his tools, and his heart.

Nino then chose to embark on a reinterpretation of José Luis Santes's The Embrace and thus decided to celebrate his love for his land through the tender and eternal embrace between two lovers. It is a message so simple in its genuineness that, at times, we don't fully grasp its power. But Nino, with his artwork that he decided to give to the community, reminds us that giving oneself to others is also a form of love, that solidarity among people is an act of love, as is gratitude, and that one can become a father infinitely, just as he himself demonstrated by transforming a raw and shapeless piece of wood into a magnificent work of art that all of us can enjoy and through which we will have opportunities to reflect on the true meaning of life.

With these brief words, we extend a warm virtual hug to Nino, his family, and his collaborators, along with a sincere thank you for the significant gesture he performed.

Learn about the Operators and the Project of GMT Halaesa-Nebrodi.

I believe Mario had an absolute blast last night. He, who always maintained that the dead never truly die but observe us from the afterlife, from another dimension, I saw him sitting on the steps of his house, on a small street near the Church of Santa Caterina in Mistretta. He was watching, watching us, and watching himself.

His clever, deep, and gentle gaze, curious like the goblins he loved to paint, rested on the faces of those who, five years after his passing, had decided to accept the invitation from family and friends to attend a cool August evening dedicated not to his commemoration, but to his memory.

He had a blast, as I said. I noticed it when he was in stitches, listening to the words of his close friend, Tatà. Growing up with a person, sharing their battles, passions, bold and unconventional choices, their successes and failures, is the fertile ground where a sincere, deep, and timeless friendship germinates, grows, and matures. This is why Tatà, in talking about Mario, couldn't help but talk about himself. And vice versa. Mario, sitting on those steps, laughed and Tatà smiled, between one anecdote and another, as he spoke to us about Mario the boy, Mario the artist, Mario the philosopher, Mario the politician, Mario the "communist," Mario the writer, Mario the man.

At a certain point, however, Mario's amused expression changed, becoming more introspective. The scene was changing, and Mario was changing too. His son Alvaro took up his guitar, adjusted the microphone, and, along with Valentina, began to sing the first notes of "La canzone di Marinella," by that De André whom Mario, so long ago, had introduced to his own son.

Mario had sung De André over and over at home, during get-togethers, maybe even with his group, Gli Elfi, but now, hearing it sung by Alvaro, it moved him and, at the same time, pleased him. "Alvaro is really good," he thought to himself, as the magic of the music spread along the narrow street crowded with people. Then I saw him go down the stairs and play the last verse along with them:

"This is your song, Marinella Who flew to the sky on a star And like all the most beautiful things You lived only for a day, like the roses And like all the most beautiful things You lived only for a day, like the roses."

While Alvaro and Valentina continued their musical performance, Mario, Liria, and Ferruccio led us up the stairs into what is now a small museum. It holds paintings, sketches, writings, and various documents produced by Mario during his long artistic life, carefully preserved by his family in that treasure trove of material and immaterial culture that Tatà would like to turn into a Foundation. It is the studio-workshop where Mario unleashed his exceptional artistic sensibility, his ironic, sarcastic, irreverent, bold, and fascinating, yet also gentle, brush. The colors, the painted figures with their almost photographic appearance, the symbols and symbolisms, the gnomes, toads, open books, and faces have always struck me.

The Rimembranze exhibition will also be open today, August 16th, from 7:00 PM onwards. If you look closely, Mario will still be there watching, watching us, watching himself.

For more information: http://www.mistretta.eu/Speciale%20Mario%20Biffarella.html