the luckiest being
Maria Martelli’s debut poetry collection, published by frACTalia in 2023.
The volume brings together a collection of poems divided into four main sections, which describe the passing of a year, marked by the stages of the seasons: spring and summer, with cherry blossoms, joy, and sunshine; autumn—abundance, shadows, and observations of the multispecies family; winter—moments of gratitude and questions directed at the present world, marked by cognitive dissonance and anxiety; and, the new spring—searches, rediscoveries, and an ever-growing understanding of a more-than-human world.
Often constructed with rhyme or rhythm, the poems examine the world through a queer-feminist and anti-speciesist lens. They frequently begin with an intimate setting—life lived alongside beloved plants and trees— with subsequent references to a global context marked by the current climate crisis, the struggle for social justice, the housing crisis, and the recognition of privileges belonging to a particular species, class, or gender—attempting to highlight and dismantle them to make way for a less anthropocentric and far more inclusive perspective.
Maria’s book revolves around key concepts such as luck, gratitude, secular prayer, and intimate life within a multispecies family. Thus, the illustrations in the book feature portraits of the non-human family members, their presence, and the setting in which they find themselves—from the outdoor setting with the bountiful garden to the indoor setting that reflects the gathering, the small community, and the stories that often begin during a family dinner.
I worked very closely with Maria to brainstorm what would be most appropriate, magical, and essential for this book. The collaboration was made easier because we’ve already been working together for over seven years on the just wondering… project, so we had a “natural” workflow: we started with the mood board, the space where we gather images for inspiration.
For the front cover, I started with a scene that might be familiar—the cubs emerging into the light evokes a moment from *The Lion King*, though in a bittersweet, almost ironic way: here, the cubs are not revered; they do not inherit a kingdom. On the contrary, they are pulled away from danger, from the shadow of death. The light surrounding them is not the sun, but the car’s headlights, thus denoting an urban setting, a space where the human and the non-human must learn to coexist. The cover is constructed through a play of images, juxtaposing the previous frame with a background into which it blends—from a distance, however, we see that the background is a portrait. It is a depiction that marks the passage of time, in warm summer colors, of the two puppies, the protagonists of the book—Aki and Nuna.
For the illustrations in each section, we collaborated to select an image that would capture both the season and the main “characters” within them. Almost every illustration is based on a photograph taken by one of us. As a result, the book is organized through its illustrations, with the sections having no titles. This choice allows the visual elements to interact with the text, becoming an essential part of the book’s structure.
A Lucky Night, Spring-Summer, Winter
The book is divided into chapters that explore the effects of the four seasons on the local context in which they were written. Beginning with the introductory poem, which reimagines the concept of luck and what it means, I visually depicted the feeling of a magical night, with a moon that unfurls into slices of orange, based on the excerpt: “Was there ever a night—a lucky night—that unfolded perfectly, like an orange, with every slice intact, right before your eyes?” (p.13).
As the lyrics delve deeper, they depict a wide range of emotions that come with each new season; waves of happiness and gratitude are always intertwined with a surge of anger or anxiety toward capitalist society and its daily injustices and oppressions.
For the first chapter of spring and summer, I depicted a small section of a garden—a moment of abundance and joy, with rays of sunlight caressing and nourishing the fruit-bearing plants, those waiting to be picked, to share the sweetness of their ripeness.
The final illustration depicts several poems from the winter chapter and features a dark color palette. It portrays a dinner scene that blends light and darkness—a gathering where many daily conflicts come to the surface, a contrast between those who are alive and those who are dead, between those who tell stories and those who end up on a plate.
Nuna, Aki and Aria
Chapter II - the reflection of autumn and domestic life is illustrated through portraits of the three non-human members of the family, from top to bottom: Nuna, Aki, and Aria. Intimate, family life—the monotony of days bathed in the sun’s last warm rays—brings a new depth to our understanding of those who live alongside us. A wealth of aromas, tastes, touches, and experiences—a wealth waiting to be gathered and understood by those whose gaze is turned toward a new, possible world.
Ragna and Murmur
Ragna on the left and Murmur on the right—two portraits of the little ones who joined the family later on—can be found in the section with the Appendix and Author's note and Acknowledgments
Both fluffy and black, Ragna, always curious and playful, and Murmur, who loves to explore the neighborhood, Ragna, who traveled far and found a wonderful family, and Murmur, who is joining a family that’s already come together.
Mușhi
I’m drawing you for the third time
I’m trying
You’re so wild, not even the lines want to resemble you
You're so free that I can't even contain you between the brushes
Something about you escapes me
I know you
And yet I can’t contain you
I tell myself
“It’s because of your black fur
It absorbs all the light around
Your body swallows all the contrast
And only your belly is still visible
I think it’s the only part of you
That I’ve captured better.”
The fourth, the fifth, the sixth
I sketch and something keeps getting lost
Tiny and vulnerable
You’re stubborn and fierce
As I sit with you and wish you’d listen to me
I keep thinking how no one can
Dominate you
Tame you
Soften you
I keep thinking of you
And hope I can capture you better
You can find Mușhi at chapter IV, a section dedicated to her, but also to the new year and the creatures you might encounter during the last chilly months of winter. Mușhi was the hardest to draw, from her boundless curiosity to her healing gaze (like a chamomile flower), to her strong and restless body. A portrait based on one of the first photos taken when she arrived at her new home. Alongside it, a short poem I wrote while trying to capture her as authentically as possible.
Written by Maria, Mușhi has a poem dedicated to her on p. 123. (This is a rough translation, made by me, just to give a feel of the poem)
“We found Mușhi in the Lidl parking lot,
...
In the first night
she stood motionless in the old vacuum cleaner box,
the second day, she already felt at home, and she got a
toy from the puppies' basket and started munching on
my reading chair, under the light of the cherry-red lamp."
I’ve saved the four reviews (which appear on the back cover) for last—they were written by these wonderful authors, who’ve managed to capture the essence of the book, and I hope they’ll make you want to read it.
★ All the illustrations and the concepts behind them were created in close collaboration with Maria Martelli and are the result of a collective effort, for which I am very grateful. I would say I felt truly lucky.