Meo Fusciuni - Viole Nere
“The violet in spring represents the blossoming of the soul”
There is a place where my thoughts find refuge, where I absent myself from the world, where I read my poems aloud at the dawn of March, as the first violets of the year emerge from the still frosty ground. That place is the garden of my soul. In Viole Nere I address the theme of absence and blackness in which I hide my being, abandon my mind, where the word becomes a boulder to which I bind my spirit and where poetry becomes a form of invocation. Perfume becomes marvel, black on black. I have chosen to tell a new story that has the scent of a black violet.
Viole Nere was born from my desire to tell the story of my love for the garden, as a physical and spiritual place, as a mirror of my consciousness. I did this by interpreting the famous Violet, a flower that is austere and delicate, yet has a strong character.
My Violet tells of March mornings, when the earth is still damp and cold, wet from late winter and the first lights of spring illuminate the meadow. Violets grow and perfume the days, a ritual that is repeated year after year.
I have tried to make tradition modern, seeking balance between the powdery, fruity and woody notes. The sparkling note of Cassis tells of the freshness of those mornings, the accord of Vetiver, Patchouli and Frankincense takes us back to the earth, to our roots. The accords of Violet, Iris and floral acord are the emotion, the light, the elegance. A contemporary classic, a 1920s Violet but of the new century.
Composition: Cassis, Cognac, Violet, Iris, Lily of the Valley, Jasmine, Rose, Ylang Ylang, Vetiver, Frankincense, Sandalwood, Patchouli, Oakmoss, Vanilla, Musk
"In the morning, when March came,
I would stop to pick small bunches of violets,
shy and austere.
At night, I would stop and look at my garden,
attentive and taciturn.
Absence is a mystery,
of dark dress,
of powdery scent,
of strange emotions."
"It is the darkest hour,
when the rain falls,
And for days now I have forgotten myself.
It is the brightest hour,
when the first violets arrive,
the last snow melts."
