"Percorso
artistico? Mi cominceria col dir che no son un artista... diria percorso
creativo... xè comincià da subito, da quando che go memoria”
[My
artistic path? To begin with, I'd say that I'm not an artist... creative path,
I'd say... it started from the very beginning, since I can recall memories at
all]
Toni Bruna
doesn't seem to like definitions or labelling: artist, poet, singer, dialectal
songwriter.
The
instruments he makes use of for his musical creations, doubtlessly own much to
the city he lives in, Trieste, a city clutched between the carso* and
the sea. In fact, in his album Formigole (2011), one can find stories,
impressions, faces, well-known places as well as forgotten corners of the city,
but also the power of the natural elements and the solidity of the ground.
And just as
the urban dimension fuses with the rural one, in the lyrics of his songs
spiritual elements and more earthly ones live together. This combination
results in images which may not always be clearly defined, but which bear a
sharp expressive energy.
Tesounasanta is in my opinion one of the best
examples.
tesounasanta
te ardi come el
Monte Grisa
te vedo in testa
un'aureola de
neon
o me confondo
cola plafoniera
dela cusina
[youareasaint
you glow
like Monte Grisa**
I can
see over your head
a
neon-halo
or maybe
I've mistaken it
for the
kitchen ceiling-light]
The natural
dimension too is of central importance for Toni Bruna. A dimension based upon
simple, but essential elements, which is
often necessary to face in order to see with different eyes the complexity of
every-day life. Ants––the formigole
which inspire the title of the album––represent a valid basis for comparison,
according to the songwriter...
e le formigole
le sburta avanti
e indrio le fregole
co le antene le
se stuziga
qualche volta le
se piziga
ma po' le se vol
ben
e noi altri
restemo solo tra
de noi, noi altri
qualche volte se
misiemo
con quei altri de
là
po' se demo pa'l
muso
e restemo
incazzai
sì, e
restemo incazzai.
[ants
they
push crumbles to and fro
they
pick on each other with their antennae
sometime
they tease each other
but they
care for each other, eventually
we
we only
stay among us, we
we
sometimes mingle with those over there
then we
hit each other in the face
and we
keep getting pissed off
yes, we
keep getting pissed off.]
Toni Bruna
relies upon the potentialities of that which for him is the “only possible
language”, namely the triestine dialect, which doesn't force the creative
process within the limits and constraints of a language which is not the
“maternal” one. Even in the choice of his means of expression, Toni Bruna wants
to detach himself from pre-set categories:
“no me piasi sta roba delle definizioni: el dialetto, la lingua (…) me
piasi più l'idea che la lingua xè una roba che nassi spontaneamente, per la
necessità che ga la gente de comunicar (…) no xè che te metterà 'desso la
lingua in scatola, no? No te pol, la lingua xè viva e te devi accettar che xè
cusì”
[I don't
like this whole idea of giving definitions: dialect, language (…) I rather
prefer the idea that a language is spontaneously born, from the necessity that
people feel to communicate (…) now, you cannot just close the language in a box,
can you? No, you can't, a language is something which is alive and one must
accept that it is so.]
*The karst
**Mount
located in the northern part of the city, on top of which sticks out a
sanctuary dedicated to the Virgin Mary, renowned for the unmistakable shape
that should ideally recall the letter “M”.
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