Brigitta Rossettì's Libers are first of all a hymn to freedom.

Where will the butterflies held within the pages of the books end up? Are they too looking for a lengthening of their existence trying to shun the fleetingness of life?
It is well known that books dealing with the fear of any form of power are the first and foremost to be banned so as to destroy memory.

On the contrary the artist aims at making memory survive.
Seeing them fastened to the wall, on the long thought wall, makes it possible for the 'reader', to grasp the breath of life and, in just a matter of seconds, to witness the distressing moment of the time of death.

These  Libers may afterwards be piled in a corner of the room, freed from the iron frame that holds them up against the wall,  now close to  the reader who can delve into the pages. Such pages can no longer be leafed through, yet the artist who has now made unserviceable  the real books she had started her creation with, is worth gratitude rather than criticism. The pages were already worn out, the books partly dismembered; they were just useless, unserviceable objects only suitable for the dustbin.

Brigitta has chosen the pages with painstaking care, has opened them delicately focusing on the most precious words and has fixed them forever. And then has added a touch of beauty: the words have been interspersed with  butterfly wings for any 'reader' to freely grasp the meaning.

It is a syntony/symphony of words and beauty that has been portrayed.
“...As a human being, Dante can not stand up as the judge of such a deep issue, nor can he claim that his limited sight clearly focuses on a truth that is miles and miles away...” Amid these words from a crib of the Divine Comedy Brigitta Rossetti has laid a butterfly, with one white cemented wing, and one wing made out of  pages and words from the Paradise.

“ Although he is fairer than a star/And you lighter than cork/ and more furious that the stormy Adriatic Sea,/with you I would like to live, with you I would gladly die”: a second book is a collection of Horace's Carmina and here the butterfly wings are partly covered by writing, partly painted and raised.

Actually it is not so much the anthological value of the book that matters, but rather the idea of the book as carrier of always useful and precious information: whether it is a book of poems or an old telephone directory, which is used by the artist as a symbol of memory.

Try to imagine what the  present world would be like without the old telephone directories: who would be entrusted the memory of streets, squares  and villages? And of faces with them...

 A further vision of the artist becomes therefore relevant, besides the ones that refer to the necessity of substantiating and giving fresh life to words and pages that have  been forgotten, or which urge us to wonder where the butterflies stuck amidst the pages of the books end up? Are they themselves trying to protract their existence by shunning the fleetingness of life?

Brigitta Rossetti's vision poses a further question: how shall we read from now onwards? How are we already reading? We live within a society where images are replacing words, therefore symbols (just think of the widespread use of emoticons) and text messages are replacing our voices and are bound to alter emotions.

The artist lives her daily life in this society, just like everyone of us. It is a modern society  which is running the risk of losing memory: the strongest enemy of power. Brigitta Rossetti's installation is, from this point of view, a loud cry of alarm: Liber, libro, libero! (Liber, book, liberty!)