"Our voyage began one day in late November. We were on our way back to Rimini, the town where we live, after a short trip to the inland part of Romagna: we went to visit the cemetery where my grandfather is buried. I don’t know why, but along the way I decided to stop at Talamello, a small town that appeared in the distance, as pale as a ghost.
Now I remember: my grandfather, who loved paintings and was originally from that part of the countryside, had talked to me about a crucifix conserved in the town’s church. He said it was by a student of Giotto, the greatest and most important Italian painter in the middle ages, who is even mentioned by Dante in the Divine Comedy.
Until then I hadn’t been very interested in paintings, least of all ones from the 14th century: the ones he often used to show me in his books all looked the same to me, and I couldn’t find anything interesting about them. As soon as I walked into the church I felt an icy gust of wind blow across my face… It was so silent, and no one was around… I could see the crucifix, far from me… but it was dark, there wasn’t enough light. Suddenly, outside, the wind chased away a cloud and a ray of sun shone in through the stained glass window, making its way slowly towards the painting. Finally, I could see the face of Jesus, and I realised that he had a tired expression, full of sadness. But it only lasted a minute, and then everything got dark again. That image deeply moved me. Maybe it was the impression made by the way it appeared, mysterious and far-off, only illuminated by that fleeting ray of light… that moment of unexpected beauty sparked a strange curiosity inside me, a desire to learn more about it. Who was the painter who painted that crucifix? A student of Giotto, alright, but who?
That same evening Elisa and I decided to go speak with a friend, Alessandro Giovanardi, who is an art history professor. He would have helped us learn some more about it..."