I feel the shard in the chest
a shattered heart quite undone
reveals a wound at its best
stuck thorns cross the elected organ
may the hours pass and days
may the time redo the joy
that moves and sows the soul in raise
in the depths of this agony hole
may life maybe as a dice be trown
bringing back whoever is there
to stay and carrying along whoever has
to go and may the mind let alone
the organ heart in its place
pulsating for life and blood
rather than extinguishing its flow



no light, digital art over photo. 2016

Original em Português:


I want the siege of your sea
to close upon me and this blue
to flood my life with yours
remake myself fully in joy
I want the siege of your air
to close upon me and all that blue
to touch my soul’ skin so fair
with this fresh coolness so true
I want the siege of your fire
to burn upon me and your blue
to flame the gray paint entire
from these sightless eyes of fool
that could not see any higher
blind completely before you




onda, oil on canvas. 2007

Original em Português:


I sat and the darkness surrounded me. gradually, it came taking over my feet, crawling up my legs. the pitch was so intense that it was sprawling itself in absence. shortly there was no foot, and through my leg it passed depriving it of life. two they were so the pitch ran then twice. the hands so weak didn’t even rouse reluctance: they let it pass. so through the arms it began to spread itself steadily. soon there were no more limbs. up through the eyes it came, depriving them of sight. it came freezing then the brain already almost clueless. but what to do without the thought? well I know: there still remains the heart. it was then that suddenly I got why the dark had found me there, not without a reason fair: it knew I was easy prey because you left my chest hollow and completly out of pace.


self-portrait in the dark over stories. photography over drawing on paper. 2015


original em Português:


I love you the shade, the ache
the absent smell in the crowd
from the silence I hear your hollow shout
resounding in your pounding heart

We are one when I hear you
I almost wear a morning dress
for being not sure if there I am or
if I’m just a fruit of your distress



two, acrylic on card. 08.12.2015

Absence & Doubt

And so, at that very moment she got paralyzed. Something had just gone through her body, would that be some sort of poison or any toxin of her own, the truth is that it left her in such condition that her faculties would no longer function. The shadow of what was by then the huge Doubt incontestably besieged her, nevertheless Absence took advantage of her rundown state to strike the final blow upon her: not seeing him again was far beyond the remaining of her strength.

Both of them, Absence and Doubt, had been full grown for a long time now and from those figures that at the beginning seemed to be some kind of baby-sisters, they turned out to be more like wretched stepmothers.

As soon as both were born, she placed them in the basement of her soul, feeding them every day. She believed that after being responsible for bringing them to life, she should allow them to live, co-creating and co-existing with her in the very same time-space of her own being. Imprudence, out of pure and simple imprudence. By then, she didn’t realize the fact that both had been begotten by small fissioned pieces of her own soul, so the day would come when they would no longer be subjugated.

Fissioned small pieces… Yes, we human also reproduce ourselves by asexual fissiparous reproduction. This sort of fission or division, invisible, happens as follows: it begins in the human core where the vital force impelled by some adverse thoughts, feelings and sensations just break apart and what some might like to call soul, lacerated, divide itself into identical tiny little pieces. To all that, exactly like two noncompliant public employees, the human heart consents and the human brain reiterates. Note, anyhow, that in this case, usually the original individual, meaning the soul, may not regenerate completely as most of asexual reproducers such as flatworms and cnidarians. Thereafter, it follows the interbrain gestation: from the most resistant tiny little piece of the dilacerated soul, an egg-balloon shaped cell is formed and once its eggshell is broken, a puppy-affliction is liberated. Vertically, toward the skies it must ascend. However, the worst often happens. A morbid parental pride or even a mistaken sense of responsibility does not let it go. Next: the basement and the maintenance of the scion. One must also take into consideration that the human perishable eyes hardly can see such breed. Yet, some latent signals can be observed despite the difficulties even for its genitor.

And so they were both growing up, Absence and Doubt. To let them go by now would be like depriving herself from something she had not even ever had. To kill them would be simply impossible, especially now that almost adults they were already bigger than their mom soul. So, she would always give it a second thought and just give it up. And there, right there, they showed themselves sovereigns. They defeated her leaving only what was her most dense matter. Hollow. May the truth be told, she had already been able to sense that this moment would come and in ecstasy and at a distance groped with the vile hands of her thoughts for the sensation that right now was almost hindering her from breathing.

On the occasion of that very glimpse, she grabbed at her beloved, also breed of her soul, Hope. She believed that at such a moment, as a merciful nymph, Hope would throw out a lifeboat into her muddy ocean. What a shameful mistake! She saw herself alone. By now, she was about to taste the truth behind the proverb: yes, Hope would be the last to die for she didn’t know how long she would bear this lethal substance running through her veins. Substance produced and discharged into her blood by herself. Maybe. Maybe not.

Substance. It is impossible to ignore the attempt to examine which would be its name. It should probably be something concrete that was now floating freely through her veins and entering her central nervous system. She, in her unconsciousness, allowed it to dominate her completely. It was a bile or something similar. Regarding her unconsciousness, it is impossible to make any statement; after all, during a germinal stage, it is not uncommon to exist in the divisible weak soul only a fragile and frivolous impossibility of being…

The truth is, he showed up unexpectedly to the unaware girl and nothing ever seemed so right. And so, as magically as he had appeared in her life he has now disappeared without leaving any clue, just a torturing doubt of the possible “he-loves-me” and the infallible reality of his absence and its “he-loves-me-not”. It was all it took for them, her real enemies to finish her.

If they did it just the two of them, nobody will ever know. Besides Hope and her irremissible negligence, they may have counted with Reality and the Clues sisters, all breeds of her own soul, kept in the innermost basements of her poorly explored being.



Alessandra Barbierato


suspension: walking the tightrope supended by thoughts. acrylic on cardboard. 2015

Original em Português:


The cool pale complexion can no longer bear
these flying hours that find no way through despair
for the being that at it’s most chaste limit
feels the mind oozing from seed to budding plant
through her infertile womb of love deprived sand
like persistent seedling grows in these mud
soaked in tenderness and omnipresent love
and the permanent cry streams in a flow
the more you reveal yourself the higher I go
the wanting grows and from seedling savage beast
condemned to run till rupestrian exasperation
aloof and indomitable snatching the vastness of this
succumbed to the heart poor mind in devastation




sucumbência, acrylic and ink on paper over wood. 2014

Original em Português:


I miss you everyday and hour
through the path I go without
your light or a single flower
although my broken highest desire
there is not a trace of sadness
for I know you’re there somewhere
with your smile and tenderness
and there is a spot where my soul
can reach yours in your wholeness



wholeness, acrylic on paper. 22.11.2015

Les Multiples Demeures – small works, “sucumbência”, acrylic & ink on paper. 2014


“sucumbência”, acrylic & ink on paper over wood. 2014.

A tez pálida e fria já não pode suportar
que as horas voem sem que rumo possa dar
ao ser que em seu limite mais estreme sente
a mente esvaindo-se semente em planta broto
de seu ventre infértil de amor carente
como muda cresce insistente meio ao lodo
encharcado de ternura e amor onipresente
e o choro permanente segue em torrente
quanto mais te mostras mais me embriagas
a falta cresce e de muda animal silvestre
condenado a correr à exasperação rupestre
arisco e indomável arrebatando a vastidão
da mente devastada sucumbida ao coração.


Small works em detalhe


Margaux and the dog: “repos”, mixed media. 2013


Anita and a child in: “repos”, mixed media. 2013


“potpourri dans le trou” detail, acrylic on cardboard. 2013


“potpourri dans le trou” detail, acrylic on cardboard. 2013

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musing Margaux in: “the three tenses”, mixed media. 2013

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“le gauche” detail, acrylic on card. 2013


the overfull, detail of “the three tenses”. 2013

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naughty angel in “planet love” , detail. 2013

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riding Margaux and “the rider”, mixed media. 2013


“over the rainbow” detail, acrylic on canvas. 2013