Hey you, long time no see!
Back in June, I actually wrote a whole newsletter. It’s still sitting in my drafts, unsent, full of words I thought I’d share “soon”. But then life got in between! You know how it goes.
So here’s the update I should have sent you mooooonths ago.
I’m painting a big mural that has absorbed most of my days, and back in July, I left Madeira and went to Rome, my hometown. And not just anywhere in Rome, the Campidoglio, the hill where the city itself was founded. I was there to receive an award for contributing to Italian art and culture abroad. Even writing this feels surreal.
Because honestly, Rome has not always been kind to me. Being an artist in Italy can feel like screaming into closed doors: late payments, last-minute cancellations, systems that reward who you know over what you create. For years, I rejected the idea of being called an “Italian artist” because I felt rejected first.
But that night, standing on the Campidoglio with my family watching, something shifted. It was like the city whispered: We know you’ve been hurt. We see you now. “Brava”.
And I almost cried the entire evening. I almost let myself believe that I can be proud of being Italian again. That my name, Francesca, which I’ve often hidden behind “Bri”, carries worth. That it’s worthy of being tied to the word “artist”.
I was wearing a silk dress by my friend-artist Nathan Slate, hand-dyed in my colours: green, lilac, pink, light blue, all melting into black. A long train that seemed to fly behind me. It felt like stepping into myself, seen, recognised, alive, and my mom was there to see it. That meant everything. I created a reel about this experience, have a look!
After Rome, Sicily. At first, it was just a holiday to breathe and reconnect with my roots. My dad’s from a little town between Messina and Milazzo, and I hadn’t been back in four years. Since I was already in Rome, I decided to take the opportunity to go, I love that island! But Sicily had other plans: it ended with me performing at Aura Fest. To play under that sky, surrounded by sea and sound, was something I’ll never forget. Performing in Italy always moves me, but Sicily…Sicily felt like coming home.
And then, chaos again. I left the stage at midnight, straight to the airport at 1 a.m., security checks at 3, flight at 6, a quick stop in Prague, and back to Madeira. Below you can witness how I travel.
Here, new music is slowly growing with Noah Kempf. Strange little melodies, vulnerable beginnings, experiments, silences. It’s not just about sound but about trust, chemistry, and timing. Here I documented the process!
But I’ll leave soon again! This September, I’ll be in Cambridge for a residency in a bright blue caravan owned by Cambridge University turned studio, parked under the trees. The programme invites artists, activists, and dreamers to reimagine how we relate to our spaces and each other. Two weeks to slow down, to experiment, to just be. They wrote me this: “As you know, we had nearly 50 applicants this year and the shortlisted artists were all of a very high standard, so we are very pleased to offer you a residency for September 1st-September 14th.” and I’m over the moon!
And after that, Vienna, to see my dear friend Tereza, to plan projects, and to peek at Ars Electronica, where she’s showing her work. A dream for both of us.
Thank you for reading this far!
If you want to follow along in real time, more music, murals, experiments, and messy human moments, you can find me on Instagram. New content is coming soon, and I can’t wait to share it with you.
With love,
Bri
(Typing this while listening to the sea outside my window in Madeira, trying to catch the next melody before it disappears.)