As we are approaching the beginning of a new decade (notice the “half full” theory here 😉), it would have been hard to say “Bye now” without addressing a few things first. It has been quite a year. And my guess is, not only in the USA, where intolerance and hate and, quite frankly, group idiocy seem to have taken over a large enough group of the population to -sadly- reverberate. Cult-like ideologies -if one can call them that-, alternate facts (or to us, gentiles, lies), get rich fast schemes (the kind that makes the rich get richer), back-room conniving, and, who knows …. What else.
T’is in this environment that I discovered Alberto Giacometti, born in 1901 in Borgonovo, Switzerland. Eldest of four children of Giovanni Giacometti, a well-known post-Impressionist painter, and Annetta Giacometti-Stampa, descendants of Protestant refugees escaping the inquisition, he was above all a sculptor, painter, draftsman, and printmaker, best known for his stretched out sculptures of solitary figures. His work has been compared to some existentialists in literature.