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arte
CORRELATIVI OGGETTIVI/URBANARRATIO STEFANO SCARAPAZZI/VALERIO SCARAPAZZI
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Due interessanti mondi a confronto sono quelli presentati all’IkiGai Art Gallery durante il periodo natalizio. L’arte di Stefano e Valerio Scarapazzi, mostra come la creatività, pur attraversando la medesima linea di sangue, scorra libera, disegnando differenti personalità. Stefano adotta uno stile più intimo ed evocativo, fatto di correlazioni oggettuali, in cui la realtà è riprodotta lucida e razionale. Lo spazio è definito da linee ben progettate che ritraggono il quotidiano. La sua operazione creativa, ispirata dal celebre poeta Eugenio Montale, tende quasi a isolare dettagli degli oggetti che ci circondano, dando maggiore risalto, così, alla loro funzione. Proprio sottraendo, alla nostra vista, parte del contesto che solitamente li ospita, infatti, si evocano emozioni e sensazioni. La vena nostalgica, che permea le sue opere, conferisce quel romanticismo che si allaccia perfettamente all’arte di Valerio. Sono poetiche, infatti, le narrazioni urbane di quest’ultimo. Il pennello scorre vorticoso, il colore si frantuma, si trascina danzando sul foglio, fino quasi a polverizzarsi davanti ai nostri occhi, riprendendo ed esaltando la linea acquarellata del paesaggismo romano. L’interpolazione dell’elemento multimediale, invece, in questo delicato volteggiare, sorprende e dona estrema contemporaneità. Nelle opere di Valerio ciascun soggetto interpretato, che sia essere umano o scorcio cittadino, è una storia. Storie del tempo in cui viviamo, tra quotidiano e multimediale, tra concretezza e pixel. Sia Stefano sia Valerio, vogliono raccontare, con i loro linguaggi, una personale visione del mondo, in cui poesia e realtà si fondono insieme per instillare nello spettatore la speranza di plasmare la propria realtà con incantevole maneggevolezza. Un invito a prendere consapevolezza del mondo che ci circonda con innovativa delicatezza.
Alessia Ferraro
IkiGai Art Gallery Director
Nassin Honayar: l'artista dalla forza espressiva oltre il destino
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Amici lettori, ci rivediamo al prossimo evento artistico e sarà sempre un piacere.
L'altra metà di centrocampo, un progetto dedicato al football verso Qatar 2022
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ANEMA E CORE SOTTO LA SCALINATA DEL COLOSSEO QUADRATO
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Chi è stato? Boh, sarà stato Pasquino
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I misteri della cripta
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A spasso con il morto.
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Mannaggia alla prostata
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Intervista con l'artista: KEITH HARING
Disegno di Walter Fest
Welcome back, readers of signoradeifiltri, here we are for a new appointment. For this occasion, after meeting many old artists, today I introduce you to a young man.
Unfortunately, we still have a problem with our means of locomotion, in this last period we are not very lucky, but in our blog we have the most powerful antivirus in the world and, therefore, Matteo Gentili, the great writer lent to motoring, gave back to us the 600 by minibus, borrowed from the pacifist nuns, perfectly in order, just missing the engine. On the other hand, he installed a pedal, so now, assisted by my Libereria team of pedalers, pedaling we will go to get the young Keith Haring.
I introduce them, they are all passionate writers with a loose verb, today they will pedal for you: Marta Bandi, author of Parlami di un fiore, Roberto Inzitari, author of Se rinasco m’impegno di più, Roberto Stasolla, author of Il Valore del peccato Alessandro Mazzà, author of Ne varietur and Laurent Verken de Vreuschmen author of Qualcuno inadeguato.
But you look carefully, stop to imagine, between the lines you will see hearts full of love, the names are the cradles of the questions that I protect, that I am afraid, that I contain, so much missing, nothing is missing who saves your heart has saved you whole . @ libereria2017
Come on guys, you have the mini bar, color TV, a giant picture of Totti, pastries, chocolates and the vanilla-scented environment, so now we pedal, we are late.
For those who have not understood, this car goes by pedal, on the other hand it does not pollute and does not consume fuel. Excellent for athletic training, you will soon see similar ones going normally on all national and international roads. Guys, don't complain, there are those who pay to go to the gym, aren't you happy? But here, I see Keith Haring at the end of the avenue. Very well, I call him.
- Hi Keith!
- Hi everyone, nice this bus!
- Keith, can I introduce you to my friends?
- Of course, what are you doing?
- We are writers.
- Writers? Interesting ... Guys, where are you taking me?
- We can go to Pisa and then take a ride to the sea, would you like to pedal?
- Oh yes, good idea. On a wall of that city there is a piece of my heart.
Keith Haring (Reading, May 4, 1958 - New York, February 16, 1990)
Keith Haring can be considered a predestined artist because, thanks to the influence of his father, passionate about comics and graphics, he has shown great interest in the world of comics since childhood. After the first school phase, his father made him continue his studies in the field of advertising graphics, very fashionable at that time, but Keith's personality led him to go outside the box. He could not stand the cold tools typical of graphics, the sitting at a table keeping his imagination in check. The limits of the advertising standards were not for him and so he abandoned his studies. To support himself, like many young people, he practiced many different jobs, a situation that did not prevent him from drawing and reading. At twenty years of age, in his enthusiasm and creative strength, he organized his first exhibition. From Pennsylvania he moved to New York, the big apple was the capital of American art, he enrolled in the art academy and started an exciting new life, he made contact with new friends and the fun was guaranteed, the maximum for a promising young man.
But the school, the walls of the school building, are like a prison, the didactic rules of artistic learning once again a loop in the throat, cuffs for the wrists and a sleeping pill for his imagination. So he still leaves school and goes out into the street, every corner is a source of inspiration, freedom of expression is total and Keith Haring is not alone. There is an air of pictorial anarchy among young people, no myth to follow, no master to imitate, street art is fire and flames of colours, a whirlwind of novelty among young people.
In 1980 the first underground exhibition took place in which Keith Haring participated with great enthusiasm. Street art was now his home and the other art writers were his brothers, the subway, probably because it was sheltered from the weather, the safest place to do a laboratory.
Keith Haring did not take long to succeed and so, thanks to a gallery owner who had had a forward-looking eye, in 1982, with his personal exhibition in which some established artists intrigued by Keith's inspiration participated as visitors, he began his climb.
His originality took him around Europe and by the end of the 1980s he had become a star. Unfortunately New York could have been heaven but also hell, the artist in those years contracted the unfortunate disease of the century. While his state of health progressively worsened, he managed to create his last great work Tuttomondo in Pisa, Italy. Upon returning to New York, on February 16, 1990, still very young, he died. The art world lost one of its most talented figures.
- Keith, drawing for you was like the voice for a singer, how did you feel when you drew?
- Walter, it was so easy for me, the pencil, or any of my tools, was one with my arm. I drew effortlessly - the lines, the curves, the features with which I created my figures - for me it was like dancing, floating with the fantasy on the sound waves of my happiness, inside me I felt invisible music and my hand went alone on the rhythm that made me feel good. Did you ask me how I felt? I felt light, almost transparent but still with great strength. In those moments I had the strength of Popeye.
- When you moved to New York, were you afraid? You left the province for a megacity.
- At home, of course, I was feeling well, even if, with a pencil in my hand and a stylus, I turned into a super hero, with my round glasses, a few dishevelled hairs on my head, my slouchy walk, like a comic always with the usual sweatshirt. In short, I felt a little out of place, on the one hand I was a weak boy, as an artist I was in ecstasy on another dimension and, at that moment, only New York could give me the opportunity to make my dreams come true.
- Keith, what was your relationship with people?
- I liked people, I have never been a lone wolf, I loved working in crowded places where everyone could enjoy my imagination, anyone could ask me what I was doing and I loved to answer, explaining and laughing with them, in short, mine artist life was alive, lively and fun.
Arte al bar: Edouard Manet
Rreaders of the blog, whose pages are like spring, today we will have a great protagonist of the Impressionist movement. But before I reveal his identity to you, I confess to feel excited because, probably, of all the Impressionists he was the most important and, if he had not been so stubborn as to reject all the aspirations of the father who wanted him employed in something else, we would never have had an exstraordinary artist.
I'm going to pick him up on our 500. Here he is, ladies and gentlemen: Edouard Manet.
- Hi Edouard, come on.
- Hi Walter, thanks for inviting me, where are we going?
- How about Piazza Navona? We sit in front of Borromini and look at Bernini's fountains (then we go to Pasquino).
- I accept, I trust you, I like your means of locomotion.
- Would you like a coffee? A sweet treat? A prosecchino?
- I'd really prefer a cappuccino.
- Fasten your seat belts, we'll be at the bar in five minutes.
- Matteo Gentili has installed a one hundred thousand watt solar panel and has put two pistons of a Lamborghini Miura, who knows where he will have found them.
- Edouard, here we are, do you know that we had other distinguished guests in this bar?
- I am pleased to. Come on, let's not talk about artists of the past, what is your first question?
- What do you think of modern art?
- Modern art does not exist, or rather, it would be good not to give it a classification. Art must be constantly evolving, which does not mean ignoring the production of the past but working on the continuous search for new languages. And users do not have to side with one style or another but only enjoy and assimilate the wind of passion transmitted by a piece of art.
Edouard Manet (Paris, 23 January 1832 - Paris, 30 April 1883)
As a young man he had the luck / misfortune of living in front of the Academy of Fine Arts, a fundamental point of reference for every artist. Lucky because he had his destiny at hand, unfortunate because in the family they stubbornly disapproved of his natural talent. Only a maternal uncle, who had recognized innate qualities in him, encouraged him to pursue his dreams. But his father wanted him to be a magistrate, and so Manet, at sixteen, thought of rebellion before enrolling in the Naval Academy, from which he was also rejected, then embarking as a deckhand on a commercial ship. The father accepted, Manet could do anything but the artist.
But the father had not considered the tenacity of the son. On board and on land in Brazil, after four months of sailing, Edouard filled notebooks and notebooks with notes and sketches.
On his return he tried again to enroll in the Naval Academy, rejected again. At this point the father, convinced that he had a failed son, exhausted by the obstinacy of the future prince of Impressionism, left him free to study art.
At this point Manet begins a new life, his only life, the one in which he could demonstrate his value and his true essence. After his studies, six long years of apprenticeship with an established artist, and after traveling to Holland and Italy, temple of art, in 1856, intolerant of his mentor's schemes, slamming the door, he left the atelier where he was employed.
Paris at that time is the paradise of art, realist art is supplanting painting linked to classical and mythological schemes, and Manet manages to refine and personalize his technique.
He shares the philosophy of Gustave Courbet and is appreciated by Delacroix. While recognizing their ideals, he prefers to keep away from the group of realist artists. He is too well educated to frequent the usual meeting places with them. Manet knows all the most popular artists but does not socialize, selects his friends carefully and, probably, thanks to Charles Baudelaire he finds the strength and courage to wander with his talent on canvases of great beauty which, however, presented in public are not appreciated.
But by now he has become a revolutionary. Breakfast on the grass and Olympia are his calling card, he is proving to be a great artist but he is unpopular with the public and all the critics who consider him mad. In this case the saying "for better or for worse as long as you talk about it" is appropriate. The more they speak ill of it, the more he is artistically on everyone's lips.
Manet is too sensitive. Not resisting the pressure, he leaves for Spain, where he does not find the inspiration he seeks. He returns home, now labeled a provocateur and nonconformist.
He has the support of writers and artists but he is alone against everyone, so he decides to team up with young emerging artists, rebels against official painting, among which, Pizarro, Renoir, Cezanne, Monet, Degas who give life to the Impressionist movement .
Manet is the leader but, having no phisique du role, nor the ambition to put any medal on his chest, he is the theorist detached with the headlights off, remaining in the shadow of the nascent successful movement. In the meantime, opposition to his modern art has gradually diminished, and he has regained credit on the art scene. Stopping on his theories, Manet paid a heavy price for his resisting attacks.
His physique debilitated by always going against the current, first against his father and subsequently against criticism, is weakened and exhausted. Between 1881 and 1882 he made the one piece of art emblem of his great talent and his last existential state: The bar of the follies Berger.
He died in Paris on April 30, 1883, now deceased, he receives great honours and recognition for his value.
This is how Edouard Manet expresses himself towards one of his latecomer admirers: "It could have been he who decorated me. He would have given me luck, now it is too late to repair twenty years of failure." Furthermore, ironically and bitterly, he told a critic who did not have the courage to tell the truth and admit his immense skill: "I would not mind finally reading, alive, the amazing article that will consecrate me after death".
- Edouard, why have you never tried to be a "genius and unruly" artist? It would have avoided you many sorrows.
- Walter, surely I would have overcome obstacles by acting crazy, instead I was taken for crazy by behaving in a formal and civil way. I had to raise my voice but I wasn't capable of it. Why scream and take my opponents by the collar when my art was so clear and natural? Actually, I was an honest and good person, but shy and reserved.
- Of course, the world in all eras is not for gentlemen, I believe that they did not see you favourably for an unconscious envy, a sort of jealousy. You proposed real life when the right-thinking people hid their mikschieves masked with respectability, double-faced hypocrites.
- Yes, but luckily art walks, walks, over the centuries it has always been like this, art walks and goes on overcoming the temporal barrier of ordinary mortals. Common mortals perish, art survives forever.
- Edouard, what do you think that flying thing is?
- It looks like a paper airplane hovering in the air.
- That looks like a pirouette.
- The round of death too.
-It comes towards us. It glides gently on this table.
- There are words written on it, Edouard, do you want to read them?
- I think fate made it fly, they are very intense words and written with true love, who is the author?
- It is written at the foot of the page ...
"Edward runs towards the bench and immediately recognizes the pink note from a notebook that he had given him and his writing, always so orderly and clear as to seem printed, caresses him, as if that sheet could transmit that fear and that affection, and he reads all in one breath ". Signed Mariateresa Scionti 1 + 1 = 1 Libereria editions
- What we have read and what has come to us from heaven is from a book and the author is called Mariateresa.
- Walter, I think this book is about a suffered love. Do you know that sometimes suffering depends on too much love? For example, my father loved me and wanted the best for me, his desire for love was so great that it blurred his sight, he didn't see that I was attracted to art, he loved me and he was afraid for me. My father knew that at his departure he could not protect me and therefore, following his standards, he preferred a peaceful and rewarding life for me. Instead he didn't understand that he hurt me, his was too much love, he certainly didn't want to harm me, he just wanted my good and I didn't have time to thank him and tell him that being an artist was what I wanted and that made me happy. Although I was misunderstood in my career, when I was painting I was happy and this was enough for me. Heaven sent these words to me, I want my father to read them too and maybe he will smile.
- Or weep.
- Sincere love agrees to laugh and also to cry, I think this is what Mariateresa Scionti means in her 1 + 1 = 1. In the end it is only the confirmation that this feeling is a simple and only word ... love ... Walter, I'm going to tell my father. Come on, let's get back in the car I have to reach him.
- Okay, that would be a nice happy ending. By the way, now here at the bar there would be a small bill to pay.
- Let's run, there is no time, leave it to the next artist, who will he be?
- I think a penniless young man.
- Don't worry, his art is worth gold.
- It is better that we leave. So, after the flight with Picasso, here at the bar they are resigned.
Readers of Signoradeifiltri I, Edouard Manet and Mariateresa Scionti greet you and look forward to seeing you at the next appointment and it will always be a pleasure.
