Gli uomini che i miei figli sono diventati

Every so often, something happens in life, or in my head, more likely, that makes me stop and write with a little more purpose than usual. This time, it was a film made by Dan and Eliot.


What I saw in the film made me proud in a way that words can only partly capture. It wasn’t just a film. It was a window into the world of an artisan, and it caught me off guard — like you guys often do.

What I saw was perseverance. Someone driven to accomplish a goal. I heard the sound of tools at work. The simple rhythm of making. The quiet insistence that craft matters, even if the world around you doesn’t always appreciate the effort involved. That struck me. It’s rare these days, and it says something about who you are, not just what you do.

Dan, you’ve never chosen the easy road. Wood carving, Chinese lacquer work — these aren’t occupations you pick for a quick and easy living. They demand time, sacrifice, persistence. The return is slow, sometimes painfully so. Most people, faced with that, would turn aside and chase something easier. But not you. You’ve stayed at it, with determination, doggedly, resolutely. That says a great deal about your character.

And then, there is Eliot — your big brother. Not just behind the camera, but shaping the story with you, editing it, giving your work the frame it deserves. That’s Eliot all over: perceptive, encouraging, steady. He sees you, he supports you, and he makes sure others get to see you too.

A big brother’s role isn’t always clear, but it matters, and in this film it matters a lot.

For a father, seeing his sons share a moment of creation like that is no small thing. However far apart you live now, I see the bond between you is still strong. And that made my heart happy.

Living halfway up a mountain in Italy, in a house that constantly seems to ask more from you than it gives back, adds another layer. It’s not just the craft in the workshop, but the daily graft of making a life there.

That determination you show in your work carries into the way you and Elvi are shaping that place into a home. The film is more than a portrait of an artisan; it is the story of a man who chose the harder path and stuck to it.

And that’s why it caught me so strongly. Because it isn’t only about chisels, lacquer, or wood. It’s about a life being built with patience, skill and stubborn hope. Seeing that reflected on screen, framed by your brother’s eye, was one of those rare moments when everything comes into focus.

Building your life in a house half way up a mountain makes every other mountain less steep.”

Terence Milbourn

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