Dear Guido ...

Juan Pablo Miranda

We all said something. Without wanting to believe it at first, slack-jawed, the expressions of love and admiration, of constant remembrance flowed spontaneously, at ceremonies and meetings, in aisles, on the street. You’re no longer here.

Your life, your art – to treasure and transmit knowledge – inexorably engraved your presence in the lives of us that came to know you. But subtly so, like a soft guitar arpeggio, organically. There are times when teaching transcends the boundaries of the classroom, and the education of professionals moves into the realm of edifying souls. That was your seal, and that process, so yours, was embodied in the sharing, in sharing oneself, in committing fully, without judgments or degrees, to the space of a cup of coffee, a class, a lifetime, to the sublime and quotidian meeting of hearts and minds.

Your endeavors were an extension of yourself; done because they are felt, because they are natural, without obligations, simply because they must be done. And in that way, you were a creator, musician, teacher and cinephile. Your passions were active expressions of your life, yet without the frenetic urgency of so many, but instead, with the silently assertive character, both patient and restless, of one who listens as much as he speaks, of one who takes his time. As in an Ermanno Olmi film, where the communion between eyes is what matters, you took the time to let things bloom, to reveal their secrets, aware, not just of discourse, but also of the counterpart’s ability to absorb.

Your love for the arts, literature, music, and for cinema (which envelops all the others) is a source of inspiration, as much for the wealth of your knowledge as for the way in which you delivered it. On what roads are you travelling now; what new horizons occupy your just, clear and welcoming eyes; what new grasslands ... ? Shakespeare, the Bard, through Juliet said that parting is such sweet sorrow, yet we are saddened and perplexed: your silhouette will no longer roam our streets. We must content ourselves only with memories. And so, in the coming years, without realising it, a glance, the slow progression of a leaf falling from bough to ground, a scene in an unidentified film will trigger those memories and your calm, intense gaze will once more be called to the mind’s eye – and from there, you will smile.

So long dear friend, mentor, Professor.