12 September is Saint Guido’s feast day, but it is also the day of the Most Holy Name of Mary.

Today, six months after his passing, we are here in Assisi to remember him and celebrate what he has left us.

Six months.

Being here, in the place my father loved and to which he devoted so many years of his life, has a profound meaning for me.

I am his daughter, but also the president of the Santa Maria delle Rose Cooperative, which for many years has cared for Guido Dettoni della Grazia’s Contemporary Sacred Art Exhibition, known to everyone as the MARIA Exhibition.

Today, I would like to remember him not only as an artist, but above all as a man, a father and a friend.

Guido was a man of great culture, curious and always eager to learn, to understand and to go beyond what he already knew.

He had a big heart and a strong personality. He was demanding, of himself and of others, but above all, he knew how to listen.

He could look beyond words, sense what a person carried within them and recognise possibilities they themselves might not yet have discovered. Sometimes, all it took was a question, an idea or a word of encouragement to open up a new path.

He had a gift for helping others grow. And this was also part of the way he was as a father.

Guido was the father of three children: Ida, Pax and Axel.

He shared part of his journey with each of us, in different ways.

My brother Axel, while still young, worked alongside him, contributing creativity, enthusiasm and dedication to the first MARIA exhibitions, including the one in Assisi.

My sister Pax helped bring his work to people in the places where she lived, with affection and admiration for what he had created.

I shared my own journey with him, as his daughter and, in recent years, also through our work together.

Three children, three different ways of being by his side. For each of us, our relationship with him was also a journey of growth.

His ability to listen to and understand others was also reflected in his friendships. Guido was a deep and generous friend, and in these past months, listening to so many people’s stories, I have come to understand just how important he was in their lives.

What he left behind goes far beyond his works of art.

He left something within people.

Perhaps this is where his humanity and his art come together.

For Guido, art was not simply something to look at, but an experience to be lived and shared through all the senses.

As he himself used to say:

“The hands see, the eyes touch.”

Through Manimateria, his creative process, he invited people to engage with matter and, through experience, to discover their own way of seeing and feeling.

For Guido, creating meant opening up new possibilities for encounters: with the artwork, with others and with oneself.

This is the vision that gives meaning to the MARIA Exhibition in Assisi.

It is not simply a collection of works, but a project Guido built over time, with the desire to create a permanent place where his art could continue to be encountered, experienced and shared, even after his passing.

Today, we take on this responsibility: to safeguard what Guido created and ensure that his work continues to speak to people.

MARIA in Assisi must remain a living place.

A place where his works can continue to stir emotions, bring people together and open up new possibilities.

Over these six months, I have come to understand even more deeply how a person can continue to live on through what they have passed on to others.

Guido is no longer here to listen, ask a question or suggest an idea. And yet, what he set in motion continues to live on in his works, in the people he encountered and in the MARIA project.

Today, as I say goodbye to him as his daughter, I also feel that I am giving voice to a feeling that many of you may share: the feeling of those here in Assisi and of those who, although far away, are taking part in this moment in their thoughts and in their hearts.

That is why, today, I would not want our farewell to be simply a goodbye.

We say goodbye to him here, in the place he loved, sharing the pain of his absence and our gratitude for what he has left us.

We will continue to care for MARIA and, when possible, give shape to the ideas he did not have time to realise.

Because honouring Guido also means this: not bringing to a halt what he set in motion.

The path he opened still lies ahead of us.

And we will continue along that path.

Thank you, Guido.

Thank you, Dad.