[…] Even when we are faced with an unfinished work of art, the greatness of the authordefines it and makes it magnificent in itself: it is the Unfinished. In fact, it is preciselybecause it has not been concluded that the artist cloaks himself in legend and in a furtherstory that embellishes hisexistence since the immortality of his genius will always be tracedback to his mortal being. The genius is still among us-immortal-, but through thatincompleteness we remember that it was like us–mortal. But an unfinished work of art tellsus even more: it tells us about the creative process, the authorial gesture’s desire that wants toreach the essence, the genius’ vitality that struggles with the indolence of illness, the mysteryof a mind who does not notice the created beauty and abandons it, acontradictory era, like alleras, which establishes the canons but does not recognize the masterpieces. No unfinishedwork of art is minor, precisely because it is more open than a finished work of art. To fullyunderstand the wonder that such incompleteness causes, it is enough to dwell on thediscomfort that instead produces another type of unfinished works: infrastructural, building,urban ones. […]
Franco Carlisi’s eye keeps catching some “off-screen”
images and gives them back to us, I would say just as a narrator, with
an extraordinary liveliness and intensity.
An absent look, a distracted bride, the suffering aspect of a parent for the coming separation.
They are photos that will never enter the official album authorized to be the matrix of memories. The dressmaker breaking a thread of the bride’s immaculate dress with her teeth would be out of place.
The wedding photos usually long for elusiveness, lightness, purity, solemnity.
Instead, through Carlisi’s eye, everything becomes physical, strong experienced, real, without half tones. See the bride breastfeeding her child.
Aren’t they a story of great expressive strength?
Someone who is called Lenin must have a certain destiny. Strong is the imprinting, the connotation of the struggle of the peasants, the popular conscience, the great Communist dream dashed upon the rocks of Soviet dictatorship, but which in our Emilia part of the Po valley, has remained an unrealised utopia. Therefore, those who bear what is more of an honour than a burden may be understood if they dedicate their existence to the simple life of the fields, painted with the colours of the countryside, scented with the smell of hay and stables, framed by the sunsets when the grass changes colour. It is the work in the fields and the peace of nature that brings humans closer to poetry. The poetry of things and the soul, a language that feeds on the vibrations of the damp, fertile earth which at other times is also arid.[...]
The photographic gaze of Paolo Simonazzi perfectly captures the nature of the objects and brings them back to life in their essence made of pastel colours, creative chaos, fragments of a lived life. The opaque mirror which reflects the old typewriter, the brass lamp that hangs from a ceiling of warn beams, the old broken down Jaguar, almost an oxymoron in the proletarian context it is nestled in, the stable with its crooked doors opened out where the animals feed on light and freedom far from the dark mechanised farms, the bizarre clock with the image of Che Guevara on the handmade doily on the dresser, the pendulum on the wall and the old photo of a football team in black-and-white: this is the universe that lives again thanks to the sensitive exploring lens of Simonazzi, the world of objects that seem to stand guard with silent testimony over the peaceful passing of the seasons, when, after the winter, as Zucchero Fornaciari, another child of these lands, sings, the snowfields bloom. A small world, but with a great heart.
Luca Manfredi has walked the land and has seeded a memory of
it’s people with his vision of Irish Pavee kids. Precocious and mysterious
lads, they draw upon their inner strength to find a place within themselves
where removal from a place does not create sorrow, but freedom. At ten years
old with their own horse they are like complete adults. They sway in the
meadows with a cerulean aura on their skin and excitement on their faces as if
they were continuously singing. They are young, around eight, but for some
inexplicable reason they carry on as though they were grown men. They have many
siblings among their own kind, were raised without formal schooling, and are
children of extended ‘families’ where their own language of signs and gestures
are recognized without judgement.
sedimento (sediment) originates from a larger project called Guardo divenire immagine, a two-year research carried out by three photographers: Samuele Bianchi, Simone Letari and Simona Lunatici. In this book the authors explore places with no documentary intent. They observe them, cross them, live them with an unbiased look which is always ready to embrace what chooses to reveal itself. The word sediment indicates the solid material that settles at the bottom of a liquid following the application of a force.
Giuseppe Pagano’s journey in the world of
Alberto Giacometti commences with the small stones placed on the sculptor’s
grave, in Stampa, at the local cemetery surrounded by the high rock faces of
Val Bregaglia. From that moment on, and on several occasions, he keeps
returning to this valley in pursuit of the evidence of a suspended transition:
“I could feel that that place was calling me” – he said – “everywhere I looked
I could see unequivocal signs, as though his presence were blocked in that place”. It is only through death that
man is, in some way, freed. Death makes life solemn and so, as Berger says,
“the essence of Giacometti’s work is the awareness of death”.
If each narrative, as Algirdas J.
Greimas states, has thresholds, then cities too have entrances, borders and
contours. Naples has often been conquered from below, taking advantage of its
ancient Greek aqueduct to enter the city; in fact Naples has an underground and
conspicuous contour with no light, made of age-old, dark waters. For
centuriesmits beauties have been approached by the sea, then inland journey
being long and tiresome. And if the old heart of the city beats without the sun
and sea, as in Caravaggio’s paintings and Anna Maria Ortese’s novels, its
contours, even the most distant ones like those
of the splendid Campi Flegrei, are rather flooded by light. \...\
Carlo Desideri has done a radiograph of its coasts and novelists, pursuing through his photographs those places which have been endlessly described by writers and voyagers.
Nocturnal places like suggestions which surface from the darkness of a virtual canvas. Unusual dwellings and spaces in which the lunar, artificial light seems to blend with the wind to create new forms and original visions, in which the invisible becomes perceptible... or perhaps these are simply moods, amplified by the dark.
148 pages, format mm 220 x 300.
The publication is aimed at an audience of amateurs, professionals and artists as a source for further study, debate and anticipation of creative trends.