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Uncle Bill We came to know Uncle Bill in 1992. He was a former CIA agent and after his retirement had bought himself a desolate piece of land near the Burmese border. The area had already been deforested and so he found only barren grass and red patches of soil on his land. In just a few months he built himself a two-story wooden house, his only guidance being a “DIY” publication in many volumes. Simultaneously he began to plant his 35 acres of land with teak and other types of trees that had been growing densely there just a few years previously. He also founded a gibbon sanctuary, and sheltered gibbons who had lost their families and natural habitats. Apes which had been shot at, or left to vegetate chained up in backyards. So when we got to know Uncle Bill in 1992, ‘Highland Farm’ already had a surreal atmosphere. You could hear the apes’ cackling from far away. It was an island of green in the midst of this barren land. A world of variety among monocultures. This impression was reinforced when I visited him again in 1997 and 1999. Giant teak trees, green thicket, but also coffee, fruit and vegetables. Several enclosures with gibbons, lemurs, macaques, an old bear, dogs, cats, turkeys. Then, contact was broken off. Only in 2002 did I hear about Uncle Bill again. My father rang me with a voice full of tears. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Uncle Bill Conoscemmo Uncle Bill nel 1992. Era un ex agente della CIA e, dopo essere andato in pensione, si era comprato un pezzo di terra brulla vicino al confine con la Birmania. La zona era già stata disboscata e così, sul suo terreno, trovò solo erba secca e chiazze di terra rossa. Nel giro di qualche mese si era costruito una casa di legno a due piani, seguendo semplicemente le istruzioni di una guida in più volumi al “Fai-da-te”. Contemporaneamente aveva cominciato a piantare nei suoi 35 acri di terra teak e altri tipi d’alberi, che fino a qualche anno prima crescevano fitti in quei luoghi. Fondò anche il santuario delle scimmie, e dava rifugio ai gibboni che avevano perso sia la famiglia che il loro habitat naturale. Scimmie con ferite d’arma da fuoco, o lasciate a vegetare incatenate in un cortile. Così quando conoscemmo Uncle Bill, nel 1992, a ‘Highland Farm’, regnava già un’atmosfera surreale. Si sentivano gli schiamazzi delle scimmie da lontano e il posto era un’isola di verde in mezzo a una landa desolata. Un mondo diverso in mezzo a mondi tutti uguali. Anche nelle mie visite seguenti ebbi la stessa impressione, nel 1997 e 1999. Giganteschi alberi di teak, un boschetto verde, e piante di caffè e alberi da frutta e verdure. Vari recinti con gibboni, lemuri, macachi e vecchi orsi. Cani, gatti, tacchini. Poi, i rapporti s’interruppero. Fu solo nel 2002 che ebbi di nuovo notizie di Uncle Bill. Mi telefonò mio padre con la voce spezzata dalle lacrime. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> 06 / 07
My grandmother broke chickens’ necks Mia nonna tirava il collo ai polli My grandmother broke chickens’ necks. She would take their necks and slam them in the drawer of an old rough wooden dresser. They would struggle desperately until they breathed their last and kicked the bucket once and for all. Then there was the plucking stage, with hot water and an acrid smell that spread all around. I have not seen a chicken plucked since then, but that noxious smell of blanched feathers has remained with me. Now here, in this photo, there is a plate with a plucked bird chopped into pieces. Disgusting. Ever since my grandmother slaughtered them and I watched dumbfounded, I don’t eat any type of bird. I find that plate of giblets horrifying. I know that for some people the heads of birds are a delicacy. Not for me. To tell the truth, I couldn’t even tell if what is on that plate is a chicken or another type of fowl. But it disgusts me just the same. I wouldn’t like to be the person in the light blue shirt watching this macabre scene. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Mia nonna tirava il collo ai polli. Li prendeva per il collo e li stringeva dentro il cassetto di una vecchia credenza di legno grezzo, in barchessa. Quelli si divincolavano disperati fino a che davano gli ultimi scossoni di vita e tiravano le cuoia definitivamente. Poi c'era la fase della spennatura, con l'acqua calda e un odore acre che si spargeva tutto intorno. Non ho mai visto da allora spennare un pollo, ma mi è rimasto addosso quell'odore pestifero delle penne sbollentate. Ora qui, in questa foto, c’è un piatto con un uccello spennato e fatto a pezzi. Disgustoso. Io, da quando mia nonna li sgozzava ed io stavo a guardarla attonito, non mangio nessun tipo di uccello. Quel piatto di frattaglie mi fa orrore. So che per alcuni la testa degli uccelli è una leccornia. Non per me. A dire la verità, non saprei neanche dire se quello sul piatto sia un pollo o qualche altro tipo di pennuto. Comunque, mi fa schifo lo stesso. Non vorrei essere la persona con la maglia azzurra che contempla questo macabro spettacolo. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> 08 / 09
Page 1: FAB MAGAZINE / MAY-JUNE 2004
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Page 9 and 10: New Year’s Eve San Silvestro On N
Page 11 and 12: Wrinkles Grinze A flaccid body is n
Page 13 and 14: Vinho Vinho While I was sinking the
Page 15 and 16: Fire Il fuoco My parents have been
Page 17 and 18: + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
Page 20 and 21: 01_Gratification *EACH SINGLE TYPE
Page 22 and 23: 04.05_Portraits shot for calendar o
Page 24 and 25: Namikon ---------------------------
Page 26 and 27: 2 1 3 7 4 5 6 // L'Oréal Paris. Be
Page 28 and 29: 1 Every day Fabrica students go eat
Page 30 and 31: CHORUS/ CORO // CHORUS/ CORO // Roa
Page 32 and 33: SOLO / ASSOLO // SOLO / ASSOLO //Cy
Page 34 and 35: ----- ----- WHAT MUSIC SOLVED A PRO
Page 36 and 37: A new day in FABRICA, the creative
Page 38 and 39: Creativity is unusual It frightens.

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