Hosted by Azimut Capital Management in Rome’s Flaminio district, the first anthological exhibition devoted to Caterina Giglio brings together the Roman artist’s path from her beginnings to today.

The title names what time deposits: each work on show is the trace of a lived experience, each material the trace of a phase of one and the same research — theatre, the creative reuse of used objects, resin, matter painting, and the nib-pen drawing of the current phase. Yet the unity of this path does not lie in the materials: it lies in the mark. Not the line, which delimits and closes the figure, but the mark, which belongs to the family of engraving: form is not outlined, it is thickened. Thousands of minute marks aggregate until they generate fantastical human constellations, dreamlike and ancestral figures, in a calligraphic, ceaseless kind of drawing. The mark is what the hand does; the trace is what remains.

The subtitle states the method: an inner geography, the exhibition as a map rather than a chronology. The display does not follow chronological order; it sets works from distant years side by side, because it is this juxtaposition that makes the continuity of the hand legible: the pieces made with 1960s Regimental ties — other people’s biographies, carrying the trace of a body that wore them — the total white series and the cycle of trees, where what counts is the structural part, the roots, the skeleton, and the tree is an individual rather than a landscape; then the recent works, in enamel nib pen and Indian ink on white, black or fluorescent grounds, where black follows the old economy of drawing on dark prepared paper: form is not obtained by darkening but by heightening, and the white mark does not describe the figures, it illuminates them.

From this emerge the ideal cities, minutely detailed architectures thickening vertically at the edges of large empty fields, overturning their fifteenth-century model — geometric, deserted, governed by a vanishing point — and finding their antecedent, if anywhere, in Piranesi’s architectural inventions, with one decisive difference: the Carceri rise in order to oppress, these rise in order to lift. And the female figures, maternal and melancholic, where there is no sensuality but welcome, and whose bodies intertwine until they merge with nature.

“I don’t use pencil because I don’t want to make corrections,” says the artist. “I draw in one go, I have no plan, I never know what I am doing: I give it meaning afterwards.”

Opening Monday 19 October 2026, 6.30 pm, in the presence of the artist. The exhibition runs until 16 November 2026, Monday to Friday by appointment.