''Nel 1557 Tintoretto dipinge il quadro noto come Susanna e i vecchioni. L’opera è ispirata al racconto biblico in cui si narra la vicenda della casta Susanna, sorpresa svestita nell’intento di lavarsi, da due anziani magistrati. L’opera del Tintoretto sospende l’immagine nel preciso momento in cui Susanna
ancora non sa di essere spiata dai Vecchioni, mostrando tutta l’inconsapevole vulnerabilità della giovane donna.
Quale potere si cela dietro uno sguardo? Quale soggezione crea trovarsi sotto lo scacco di una visione? È possibile uno sguardo neutrale privo di giudizio? E quale insofferenza suscita lo smascheramento dei vizi che intendiamo nascondere? Con questi interrogativi, ma anche con meno serietà, un po’ per gioco Gabriele toglie la maschera alla realtà s-velandone la deformazione nascosta sotto la bella forma apparente, trascinando chi osserva i suoi lavori nel contraccolpo di sguardi che si rimbalzano con punti di vista trasversali e scomodi, interni ed esterni all’opera.
L’intento non è quello di una banale provocazione, le linee dei corpi e le nudità guardano con ammirazione le lezioni di Francis Bacon e Lucian Freud, le immagini immerse in un’atmosfera grottesca e surreale ricordano quelle femminili del pittore Ray Caesar.
Gabriele allestisce una trama di rimandi tra le opere e sceglie il teatro come spazio emblematico di ogni umana messinscena.
Lo spettatore potrebbe allora ritrovarsi voyeur indesiderato, scomodo soggetto – oggetto di visione, oppure scoprirsi con sorpresa perfettamente a proprio agio, poiché quello che il titolo di questa mostra evoca è solo uno dei possibili punti di vista.''
Yes! At the end it just happened: the pig ate the Prophet. Nobody can impose respect or empathy to the Nature of living beings: he was hungry, and its imperfect body needed anything to eat, didn't matter if it was the holy body of a Prophet. However I would clarify: the pig did it with respect, saving the holy head.
Days passed, and just when the pig started taking in consideration to eat Prophet's head too, the boat landed in a weird place, snow covered, full of signals of a pagan, cruel population everywhere, but empty of people.
Finally after wandering for hours, the pig found somebody: unfortunately for him, not people so open to dialogue.
In front of a sumptuous banquet, waiting that pork's meat would be ready, these weird people were surprised to hear prophet's head applying to them: he announced, talking in their own language:
''If you will follow in me, I will give you the freedom''
I repeate: skizzobarocco isn't autistic. He was just a problematic child.
Affected by megalomania and and ill frenzy in projectation, being 8 years old, he projected
immaginary palaces, for immaginary princes and nobles, the clients he always dreamt.
Having not any idea about perspective or architectonic composition, he invented from nothing an odd style, that somebody may considere kitsch. It's stunning the presence of 'orror vacui' in all surfaces, gathered with endless spaces, framed by far series of cypresses and fountains.
Such fantastic architectures are for me an infinite source of ispiration. At a first glance it may appear as a random mixture of baroque decorations, but watching carefully we get a sort of wild armony, that speaks directly to our irrational part.
It was five years ago, and in Italy the situation seemed be the worst ever. Through corruption and scandals people slowly got that there was borning a sort of 'Caste' of rich and unpunished individuals. Nobody suspected that it was only the beginning..
It happened that I just started finding politics interesting: people destroyed by vices, by bad habits and arrogance, used to consider other's lifes as means for their increasing EGO, have very expressive faces. Every line of their fat bodies is an indelible mark of their faults.
These drawings are preparatory studies for 'Study of obese persons in movement'.
The Prophet was born and grew up in a little city of a pagan island. He was a devoted and modest person, and he hated to be in the center of public attention. He just devotly washed bishop's feets, as the law wanted. The bishop was a very important and generous person, and all island's unhabitants respected bishop's honor. The bishop, secretly, loved the Prophet.
Somehow, the prophet felt happy. At those times, in the island, all people were addicted to the deepest corruption, of soul and body: everyday the little town's rest was disturbed by murders and rapes: importance of human life was very low. One day, the prophet drunk a bottle of wine. This was a serious insult of the law, and then the people took him to prison.
The bishop, using his influence, got the freedom of the Prophet, but on one condition: the prophet had to leave the island, in fact people were too angry for tolerating him anymore. The Bishop gave him a boat and a pig, and blessed him sweetly, knowing that he wouldn't see him never more.
Many days flyed since the boat left the island, and the sea started be angry. Hours passed slowly, and the pig continued watching Prophet's body in a weird way. The Prophet didn't know if being worried or quiet.. anyway, what he could do?
This is the link to my former blog.
I couldn t write there anymore.
It was like the fake mask of 'The artist I would like to be' pasted on my face, one of those false personalities we have in front of strangers, trying to show them our best sides.
Then I decided:
Stop to any perfectionism.
Stop to any endeavour to hide my artistic illiteracy.
Stop to any attempts to separate art and life as well.
And, mostly: I M NOT AUTISTIC!
If you are looking for perfect perspectives of inexistent cities, then contact that cocksucker:(email@example.com)
me, I m skizzobarocco: I treat fresh meat, broken lines, dirty surfaces, absence of composition.
I hope you'll like my drawings.
Have a nice time here,
During my life I got that the repetitiveness of an artistic subject is somehow therapeutical. It helps to understand what changes in my mind, and what is kept. Saint Jerome is one of these repetitive themes. In the choice there is maybe a phenomena of self-identification.
He lived in syrian desert during the last corrupted and libertine phase of Roman Empire, mocked by people for his virginity and his foolish research of God through sufferences and privations.
Here the first version, did when I was 17 years old. The old saint surrounded by the desert and its ghosts. Looking it now it seems a bit satirical and ironic.
Here two quite dramatic latter versions: the saint (obviously bald) taken during a lonely conversation with God. The skull is one of traditional saint's attributes. Please notice that the object of Jerome's attention is perceived very far from him and from us.
Finally my favorite one! I'm not sure, but I believe to remember I did this drawing while completely drunk. Now the object of the prayer is arrived: a little, winged angel, with a perfect and pure ass, pointed toward us. The divine roundness of his shapes contrasts with the angularity and pettiness of Jerome's body. He seems somehow surprised, although the extreme sufferings.
I'm proud of this little sketch; when I'm looking at it, depending on the mood, I find it ironic, disgusting, squalid, or highly religious!