DRAWINGS | WORKS ON PAPER | VARIA
Notes on Graziano Spinosi’s work.
(…) but a few dared into the Sanctuary. Hölderlin
Lev Tolstoy once wrote that the ideological content of a work of art lies in its structure. It’s a concise and crystal clear observation, a final verdict which remarks the intrinsic eloquence that belongs to the structural values of artistic creation. Here, I am inclined to think that all of this is very closely related to Graziano Spinosi’s work, both for the clear cohesion of form and content that has always distinguished it, and for the accuracy, to the limit of peremptoriness; thus themes and ideological connections emerge only by passing through the structural meshes and their compositional organization. The structure represents the true focal point of his exercise, not so much as a scheme or a mere procedural grid, but as a representation of a precise way of thinking and feeling: as the exact secretion of his experience – his psychic furrow, his slime trail or wake. It is a distillation which is carried out by means of a basic element, as Romani Brizzi points out in his essay on Spinosi’s work. A simple object that proves to be at the same time instrument, matrix and resultant of expressive synthesis. This element is the thread. And in order to understand, in this context, its triple soul (material, symbolic and practical) we need to dwell briefly on its forthright givenness. Whether it’s a rope, an iron rod, a thin raffia or rattan stick, its character is to unfold in cycles and returns, forging structures only by delivering the gesture to a higher monotony, to a psalmodic cadence – leading it to a nearly inexhaustible repetition compulsion. The same is true if we pay attention to the verbal spectrum pertaining thereto, here we can only find actions that involve a time span: spinning, intertwining, weaving, knotting… The system in which it articulates is made of commissures, punctuations and measured pausations. Caesuras are strange to it. Such properties can only foster a kind of figurative tunnel; each performing thrust sinks, contracts, in the pursuit of invisible occlusion coordinates, even when the impression one receives is of vertical extensivity. I would say that every Graziano Spinosi’s work, whether pictorial or plastic, strives irreversibly for this implosion of its expansive virtuality, circumscribing itself in high density areas, in a bundle of beams, of solidified and impregnable forms – in the reiterated construction of a hermetic and safe temple. It is only through this limiting, enclosing, rebinding – only by returning to the same point, that the filamentous structure allows experience to transcribe itself into language. And from here it moves, the extraordinary exuberance of analogies, metaphors and resemblances that Graziano Spinosi’s works are able to evoke. Here are the “Nidi”, nests, or otherwise beehives, cocoons, drones, chrysalises: ovoid, encircled sculptures in which, without a doubt, the introspective dimension of a solitary genesis prevails, but it is also static and frozen, as if the metamorphic processality suggested by these envelopes had undergone a sudden and resolving crystallization. Thus, the “Foresta” installation, a Cartesian circle of cone-shaped trees, has an intense architectural austerity – a wooded sequence that, instead of branching out, plumbs to an archetypical ancestral impenetrability. Or the “Wire” series, where wax castings and concrete are cut by a horizon line, placed there to isolate an impossible perspective vanishing line. Everything seems to invite for a mise en abîme of reality, or rather, for its empathized version: for that typical saturation that occurs when the external space inscribes itself in the field of intimacy and here it receives its ultimate configuration. The outcome is a kind of fossil perception of the world, where experience indexes itself in objects wedged into the surrounding scene, escaping from any contamination with it, claiming only its existence (and another sign of this fossil sensibility is offered to us by the privileged materials of the artist, whose texture uniquely refers to a primordial matteric code). These mute steles, these visual arcana, as a mirage of possible salvation, ideally counterpoint the deconstructed space of the world, its senselessness and its unbridled chaotic nature . Few can build or venture into such sanctuaries. Few can acknowledge that the will to act on the outer edge, on the “outside”, can only be implemented by practicing the internal limit of what is representable. Explicit Blanchot: “only what is best closed is opened; only what belongs to the greatest opacity is transparent.” Roberta Bertozzi