Irene Rinaldi

A summer’s drink; a pint of nostalgia; a zephyr of unhappiness; the scent of a smile—they mix and roil and roll into one another in Irene Rinaldi’s work, bold shape and line and color delineating the daily span of moods, a strange morning with a lover becomes a melancholy midday slips into a thoughtful afternoon awakes into a lively evening among friends soaked by a perfect sinking sun. Carefully, simply, in neon: Rinaldi’s work will make you feel absolutely everything you can.


kingfishers, who need to consume their own bodyweight in food each day, prey on unsuspecting fish in rivers and streams, diving with great speed and stealth before returing, heavy with water, to their waterside perches.  the kingfisher, whose wings flap at eight times a second, is the largest bird to hover, and can catch a fish in less than half a second.  

photos by (click pic) marco redaellli, charlie hamilton jamesmax rinaldi, jamie macarthurjacopo rigotti, and christopher schlaf, who will spend hours and days in silence and stillness hiding along (as well as in) known fishing hotspots for the kingfisher, in the hopes of capturing images such as these.  

i used to think i fell in love with him because he’s beautiful, then i realised i fell in love with him because he’s light - and that is all the beauty anyone needs and more. 

[thinking maybe come 22nd of July i’ll write our tumblr love story]


Y así me siento! Es el momento! Tiempo de despegar!
VOY POR MI LIBERTAD! Voy por más y más, amor y amigos nuevos y sueños por realizar Voy por más y más, la vida ya nos espera y la podremos alcanzar.

the whole week has been this incessant rain, the kind that takes a grip of the body because nature and i, we’re connected like that. the sky shifts from the sun and glory to the darkest of clouds heavy with some kind of unknown and uncertain burden. so it spills and washes at things, feet get wet, people run for cover, hiding until the momentary moodiness is done. sometimes thunder cuts at it, it trembles against the echo of an uncontained sky. it has become an unreliable cycle. my whole heart has looked like that, my whole body has wept with it too. 

when you fall in love, you give into things - the crevices and deep of a person. often reason obscures itself, it unravels and reveals only with time and weight. the spatio-temporal of the place you both occupy expands and retracts and moves in unknown ways. we are guided by our spirits in this communion, by this thrust that pushes love head on into the fate of things. 

when i thought about you one stormy mid-afternoon, i thought: the way your body moves is like the flow of a wave, it is this eternal pull of things determined only by the glory of God. and then i thought: if a mountain, that steady and solid thing, could crescendo, your body would be like that too. but it does, and it moves ever so gradually growing or sinking in movements unbeknownst to the naked eye. and then i thought of us, and then i thought of us in this moment, and then i thought about how  easy it is to love someone and how difficult it is to love that person (the doing of the word, not the falling of it).

i had nothing to liken us to, no monumental nature of things, no declaration other than perhaps the most important of them all: God brought us here… pour toujours et a jamais.