We have seen plenty of celebrations of the sea. The only subject that is as hackneyed as the sea is the sky. And love.
But really, to be innovative is not to talk about a new subject for the first time. To be innovative is to be able of talking about a corny subject in a new, or personal or moving way.
If you are a musician, go ask Ivano Fossati about it. If you are a painter, ask Piero Guccione. If you are a photographer, do what Monitor Gallery did. Go ask Antonio Rovaldi.
“Incalzatrice della storia Freno del tempo Tu Bomba / Giocattolo dell’universo Massima rapinatrice di cieli Non posso odiarti”
Correndo giù per Via dei Mille nel caldo di un aprile napoletano del duemilaundici, cercando di arrivare al Molo Beverello in tempo per prendere l’Aliscafo dell’una e cinque, vale a dire essere a Sorrento per le due meno un quarto circa, ecco in questa corsa (perché si sa che il movimento fa arieggiare il cervello, purchè non vada in iperventilazione) le immagini della mostra di Zabetta si sovrappongono, si alternano in rima baciata, alternata, incrociata e slogata ai versi di “Bomb” di Gregory Corso.
Sulla rampa di legno vigilata dai Vucumprà, a fianco al Maschio Angioino, inevitabilmente parole e immagini sono già tutta una pappetta, sbatacchiate come un frullatore nella mia testa, non resta che sedersi sull’aliscafo e fare un po’ di ordine.
Dunque, Coda Zabetta non penso proprio che abbia scritto una lettera d’amore alla Bomba, quello è stato Corso. Piuttosto quello di Coda Z. si tratta di un lavoro ordinato che ha condotto a un risultato efficace, puntuale e profetico, come ci hanno tenuto tutti quanti a rimarcare con occhi da Cassandra color acque di Mergellina, alludendo chiaramente alla recentissima tragedia nucleare giapponese.
Leave a trace. Recall a feeling. Mark our own path. These are the key needs of a human being.
Among the centuries men modified things all around them, sometimes without utility, just to fight the sense of loss. Basically, this is the reason why the Art started.
This urgency of conservation could show itself as a quick sketch of a bison in Lascaux Caves, or a line “Anna was here” in your school bathroom.
Many contemporary artists work on that concept as well. We can say without any doubt that Richard Long is one of them.
In a private visit to Locarn O’Neill gallery’s last exhibition with a friend of mine, we were struck by the work in the Locarn’s showcase, in the window display between Via Orti d’Alibert and Via della Lungara.
This display is a secondary space where the Locarn Gallery gives a preview of the main attraction in the primary space. The showcase was of a circle of stones pieces, perfectly in line with Long’s way of working. Land Art and other stories like that.
The installation’s name was “Trastevere Spring Circle”, a name that thrilled my friend Mira, who has an obsession with aliens and crop field circles. “This Richard Long… I never heard of him, but maybe he could be one of the Messengers”
“Who are these Messengers?” I asked her
She stared at me, stunned by my ignorance.
When you visit a museum in Australia, you have to consider the snake danger.
According to the Australian mentality, which is close to Hinduism in this sense, you shouldn’t kill any snake – after all a snake is still part of the wildlife and you have to respect it.
Anyways, being aware of the snake danger, I decided to go to the Heide Museum equipped with my Crocodile Dundee hat.
I hoped that my Indonesian boyfriend Lucas would have bring with him a kris and my Japanese friend Minako a katana but, alas, they didn’t.
“What about you? Didn’t you bring a mandolino with you?” Lucas asked me referring to my Neapolitan origins.
“How you supposed to kill a snake with a mandolino, genius?”
“Unless…” I mumbled making my way through the lianas separating us from the museum “you charm the snake playing Torna a Surriento or something like that.”
Walking carefully, we finally arrived at the door of the Heide Museum without being bitten, which was good.
The current show was titled “Fiona Hall: Big game hunting”
Coming into the exhibition I took off my hat and I rapidly switched my attitude from adventurer to art critic.
Words are for explaining, but at the same time words are also for hiding.
In the moment you want to tell something, you’re making a choice. Saying something means not saying something else. It’s the feature of the language, you can’t help it. But if you’re an artist you can play with it.
Arthur Duff is one who is not scared of juggling on the edge of language’s ambiguities, indeed he enjoys himself exploring the multiple layers of semantics.
He’s an American Italian-based artist living in Venice (fortunate guy), and recent winner of the MACRO 2% prize.
Actually, the artist is not distanced himself a lot from MACRO, the main contemporary art museum of Rome. As you can see the Oredaria Arti Contemporanee Gallery, hosting his exhibition, is just nearby.
Duff’s solo show is called “Syntax Parallax”. As you came into the subterranean gallery, you’re suddenly greeted by two light installations. The yellow neons, forming words, seem to melt on to the floor.
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Quando si dice Marco Tirelli, mani in alto!
Un artista di tutto rispetto, a Roma specialmente; non per niente il Macro, quello di Testaccio, ha deciso di dedicargli i suoi due prestigiosi padiglioni, uno in cui erano sistemate le sue ultime tele, tutte di grandi dimensioni, l’altro dove era comunque sistemate le sue tele ma, attenzione, in un’istallazione ambientale.
Comunque, nonostante i tempi piuttosto dilatati dell’autobus numero 3, quello che porta a Testaccio, alle ore 9 in punto ero lì per l’inaugurazione.
C’è da dire che, con tutto il rispetto che nutro per l’artista Tirelli, in realtà la sua poetica è molto distante dalla mia sensibilità, dunque ho pensato di portarmi appresso qualcuno scevro di pregiudizi che mi aiutasse a capire con occhio obiettivo ciò che ha mosso e continua a muovere Marco nelle sue intenzioni creative.
La mia scelta è quindi caduta su di un amico australiano alloggiato in una palazzina fascista proprio di strada per l’autobus 3.
Si tratta di un grafico interessato all’arte ma sostanzialmente ignorante sull’argomento “Marco Tirelli” e che di San Lorenzo invece conosce giusto il cinema nella piazzetta. Mai sentito parlare della cosiddetta “Scuola di San Lorenzo” di cui Tirelli fece parte negli anni ‘70.
Grande fan di Rothko e di Mondrian però, mi informa durante il tragitto. Ahan. Beh, non è esattamente la stessa cosa ma… vedrai amico mio, vedrai.
Media Previews, along with the free catalogues of the exhibitions, are among the advantages to be part of the “media”.
I have no idea how the NGV has come to know that I’m a journalist, but you know, I got this mail and the object was “Monet’s Garden Media Preview”. I couldn’t say no.
The ingredients were all there.
The National Gallery of Victoria. One of the most famous modern painters of all the times. Pastels colors Frenchness. I was sure the dynamic NGV would adjust itself to the élégance et finesse required from such event.
So I wore my little back dress with fuchsia stockings and I invited my boyfriend to come with me.
He was not sure he wanted to came. It was too early for him, I mean, nine o’ clock!
“The whole thing would be to classy for me anyways!”, he mumbled curling up in the sheets.
“Come on! Since we are in the City, we can also go do groceries at your favorite Mall after!” I told him.
This convinced him and he finally woke up. He wore his never washed second world war German coat, he grabbed his grannish blue and grey groceries trolley and we were ready to go.
The Italian web magazine Art a Part of Cult(ure) just published my review on the exhibition “Rally – Contemporary Indonesian Art” at the National Gallery of Victoria. The interview is part of my reportage about Indonesian Contemporary Art.
Here you are the link to the review
Here you are the link to the English translation of the review
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Two ladies in their fifties were chatting amiably in the hall of the National Gallery of Victoria.
They dressed casually, both with sandals and baggy pants. They had decided to turn their usual boring Saturday afternoon into an entertaining on, why not, a cultural walk through one of the most interesting museums of Melbourne is not a crime.
With all the National Gallery has to offer, they have been lulled by the pastel shades of the paintings of the New Impressionists, in a new exhibition called “Radiance”. They have also visited the European Masters section and the Asian Art section at the second floor and they were quite content with what they saw.
Since the two ladies don’t feel conservative at all, they felt no disdain towards a visit to the contemporary art exhibition on the ground floor.
My understanding of Melbourne so far it that everything is about the lanes. The graffiti, the social life, the art exhibitions.
A week ago I was searching for this Trink Tank gallery and, guess what, I ended up in a blind alley. In a blind lane to be precise.
I asked a bunch of people in front of a bar if they know where this Trink Tank gallery was.
A guy with a chef hat smirked:”You just passed it. It’s there!” and he guided me without fail to a shrine in the wall.
Inside the small shrine, like a Neapolitan Madonna, there was Marc Standing’s artwork “The Duchess Of Avon”.
I read the press release that you could take off from a stack of papers. Apparently the shape of the statuette was from a 1970s Avon perfume bottle, which ironically contained Sweet Honesty perfume: “Her tribal painted face is a stark contrast to her Eurocentric bridal ensemble. Coloured thread emanates from her bouquet, enfolding her in an almost suffocating embrace. However, her stoic stance is one of pride and reverence.'” stated the press release.
“So… that’s it!”
“Yeeee!” said proudly the guy “This is the gallery!”
Australia. You can have huge streets, kilometers of nothing just outside the city, the broadest spaces ever and at the same time, in a shady lane in Melbourne, the Trink Tank gallery, probably the one of the world’s smallest gallery.
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I was ready to go to the beach, but then I came to know about this “South Yarra Opening Day” from the mother of my boyfriend, who invited me to the event on Facebook.
Actually the mother of my boyfriend, at sixty seems to have a life much more cool than me, in my twenties. So, if my boyfriend’s mother suggested me to go to the South Yarra Opening Day, I should go.
I unpacked my beach stuff and I made up my mind for an afternoon of contemporary art.
Let’s say that we don’t know anything about Cameroon.
Even worse, let’s pretend that we heard about this country only by the soccer match channels.
To be short, let’s have the same approach that the average Italian Macro’s visitor probably has.
It’s more question of practicality than of willful ignorance.
An art appreciator coming visiting the contemporary art museum of Rome will go there without a previous research of what Camuroon is, what are the inner dynamics and the main issues of that country. That’s the problem with the global art. No one can know everything about everywhere and often the press releases and the captions near the artworks explains everything but the context in which the artworks are born.
You can argue that this is the art critic’s job. Well, maybe.
Naima Morelli is an arts writer and journalist specialized in contemporary art from Asia-Pacific and the MENA region.
She has written for the Financial Times, Al-Jazeera, The Art Newspaper, ArtAsiaPacific, Internazionale and Il Manifesto, among others, and she is a regular contributor to Plural Art Mag, Middle East Monitor and Middle East Eye as well as writing curatorial texts for galleries.
She is the author of three books on Southeast Asian contemporary art.
Reach out: contact [at] naimamorelli.com
