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MARCO GASTINI |
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It
is painting which, shattered into a thousand reflected colours, generates a
space in which to immerse itself; the hand can run over it, in order to know it,
although perhaps it does not touch it even though caressing it, in that it is
also on the back of the hand and behind. It is an immersing itself. Dreaming.
Painting is happiness and suffering at the same time.
Space is timid at the beginning, and like writing which narrates and takes on
strength while writing, little by little as one paints it becomes clotted, it
stretches out, it thickens like a sky which, moved by a thousand winds, changes
humour.
The space of a sky, of a thousand skies; this is landscape.
Tensions exist, they are generated and then they regenerate themselves in
painting. Within a space there are many spaces; they are the tensions which
generate it to make it live, and these infinite tensions are generators of other
spaces. The eye in grasping a space in a landscape fixes other spaces inside, it
knows them. They are the tensions and the attractions/repulsions between these
infinite spaces which contribute to generating the global one.
One cannot only see a part of it; it is like a fever: one sees everything and
only a small part contemporaneously; painting is like a vertigo. And the
immersion is this: the sky by Turner, the non-dimension of Pollock, the
diabolics of Caravaggio, the tension of Malevitch, the classicism of Piero, the
crashing of Kandinsky, the brushstroke of Monet, the held in energy of Cheops
pyramid, Bócklin's mystery, the magical tension of a detail by Vermeer...
The raging vitality becomes clotted as if to draw the energy that paints in
signs which, if held back "in flight," deposit themselves on all the
work/ space and outside of it. Beginning and end are outside, they do not belong
to the work. The wing of painting houses the work and complicates it, perhaps,
although trying to clarify it.
Marco Gastini
from
Spelt from Sibyl's Leaves
Exploration in Italian Art
Electa International