Linchetto - The Wild Spirit

The Linchetto, rebellious spirit of Lucchese folklore, is a shadow in motion, a breath of freedom that no one can contain.

1. My Shadow Laughs, Disappears, Returns

I sit between two worlds, suspended between the visible and the invisible. The apples at my feet hold secrets, red with waiting and promises. You think you see me, but I am already elsewhere—a whisper among the leaves, a shadow skimming the floor without leaving a trace. I am Linchetto, and no one can hold me.

2. Between Dream and Restlessness

I surrender to the blue of the night, my body dissolving in the breath of dusk. I exist everywhere and nowhere—a blink of an eye, and I have vanished. Perhaps you dream of me, perhaps you have only imagined me. But be careful… I always see you.

3. Forbidden Fruits

Only an echo remains, a faint trace of my passing. I have left a laugh in the air. I dissolve before you can name me. But I will return, for the Linchetto cannot be captured, cannot be tamed. Do not look for me… I will be the one to find you.

A spirit of Lucchese tradition, the Linchetto—reinterpreted in a feminine form—becomes a metaphor for rebellion and irreverence, qualities essential for breaking the chains of oppression. Its presence is fleeting, an apparition slipping between wakefulness and dream. Blue envelops it, dragging it into an impalpable dimension, while red surfaces in objects as traces of an arcane code, echoes of a hidden power. The image fragments, the body dissolves, leaving only traces. It is in its absence that the Linchetto becomes most alive—elusive and free.

Analysis of the Images of the Linchetto

The figure sits upon a cube, enveloped in a suspended atmosphere. The apples scattered on the ground seem to have fallen from an invisible gesture, traces of an act never performed or already vanished. The enigmatic gaze and slightly pointed ears heighten its otherworldly essence: the Linchetto is an omen, a vigilant shadow at the edges of reality. Deep blue cloaks the scene, a veil separating the visible from the unseen. The red of the apples emerges as a signal, a symbol suggesting temptation and knowledge, echoes of ancient tales.

The body floats between dream and surrender. The boundary between wakefulness and hallucination dissolves, the apples bearing witness to a secret ritual. Space expands into an ambiguous dimension, where time appears to slow. The monochromatic skin erases any earthly detail. The red intensifies, becoming vibration, tension breaking the apparent stillness. An image holding its breath, a frozen moment before the final disappearance.

The legs emerge from the shadows. Beside them, a bowl filled with red fruits—a final signature left upon the scene. The Linchetto has never truly vanished: it dissolves, fragments, reassembles in another form. Absence is not disappearance but transformation. What remains is not emptiness, but a clue, an open threshold onto what can never be fully grasped.