Let her spread her wings!

I grew up in a family of architects.

My father was a famous urban planner, the head of the urban planning department in the municipality of my city. A profound expert in his field, respected even by administrative law scholars with whom he held conferences, passionate about law and regulations, which he skillfully handled like his pencil.

A man who would study at night and on weekends, whose greatest hobby was his work.

I was molded in the image of my father. An elegant and generous person, he helped others realize their dreams, asking for nothing in return, except the satisfaction and pride of having found the right solution, to fulfill the needs of those he worked with.

In my home, when I was still a child, I met great architects like Giuseppe Samonà, Paolo Portoghesi, and Giulio Genta, and in this atmosphere—amid philosophies of design, new avant-gardes, and construction work—my passion for drawing and the art of building grew, especially for its enduring nature.

With great effort, I convinced my father to let me enroll in the Faculty of Architecture in Palermo: "It's a man's profession; it will only bring you troubles! Enroll in law!" he would say. "You write so well that even when you step on toes, they thank you."

When I graduated, the president of the commission, Nicola Giuliano Leone, told my father: "Don't bring Maria Elena to Sciacca. You’ll clip her wings. Let her spread her wings, instead."

But that wasn't quite how it turned out.

As a caring father, he prepared the studio for me, where I began working on projects for villas and interiors. Then, fate had it that I met my husband and moved to the Netherlands, leaving my homeland and loved ones with both sorrow and joy…

Eighteen years have passed.

In the Netherlands, I truly spread my wings, diving into unknown waters. I felt out of place and alone for many years, until, little by little, I managed to emerge and appreciate the waters around me, breaking down distrust and stereotypes, winning people’s hearts and their respect.

I carved out my space in the professional world, challenging myself, exploring different directions until I found the right path that brought me to where I am today, without anyone’s help.

Here, I am no longer "Maria Elena Fauci, the daughter of..."—an identity that sometimes felt restrictive, but which today I miss more than ever.

And when I return home and he is no longer there to welcome me, I find him again walking through the streets of my city, in the projects he designed, still present and of great value, like a trace of our shared flight.