One night in the Pacific Northwest, Ludovica Mazzucato finds herself with white canvases and tools. In the middle of the night, she’s midday awake, abundant with enough creativity to flood the Getty, the MET, and the Uffizi in one night. The morning after, she has thirty-two paintings drying as the rain does too. She stands with her rainbow hands immersed in her curls down the shoulders, balancing on one leg as she elongates the other behind her with a smile of pleasure, and knocks down a pile of white canvases with her pointed foot. “Tu!”, she turns to talk to the fallen canvases and chooses, “You!”, a canvas she’ll paint with her poetry of delicate rapture, and later sell to a collector in Italy. She enjoys painting. So she does it more. She expands her mediums, develops her talent, and enjoys it more. She paints still in her suit and heels after a board meeting. She paints before the dance rehearsals. She paints barefoot while she taps the rhythm. She paints while she is cooking. While she sings. She paints for two days without breaks. She paints because she does. She paints because she is. She paints because she likes it. So I discover the story goes further than that night and the story is Ludovica. I sit in awe and watch her be happy doing what she likes and hand her tools and bring her opportunities to do it. I’m grateful to be part of your world. 

- a friend