on Mirko Demattè
Under glass, world findings float within themselves, among moments stolen from flowing, robbing moving wishes chasing each others. Your money, or your life? But money is escaping life to destinations along exploded inside a crystal armour trajectories. Broken by desire suitcases. Withdrawals of private stacked universes. Dented compressed times, releasing over-flowing fullness. Without margins. Without any possible curiosity. Emotions sealed in the frozen aquarium. Air weapons fight against a vacuum tire. Impossible incursions into incompressible spaces. Crowded and not innocent in the proximity of the present. Suffocated by the flight of distance into the momentary totality. Time is space removed from the expansion of imploding universes. Memories increasingly condensed under pressure. The whole journey superimposed in the redundancy of one single concentric coincident image. Quick trips and suitcase dropped like sails. Started from what was forgotten and returned to the depths of density. .
Like television: does art kill reality? Installation by Mirko Dematté
According to someone television would be able to kill reality: the habit to look at a fake or distorted world, on TV series, advertisements, shows or else, can only lead to a radical distortion of the true meaning of reality. Television would become the cause of increasingly weak critical sense, of escape into the realm of evasion, of the degradation of customs. Is it really true? Trash TV, according to Dematté, is a metaphor. The latent deceptions and manifest passions that border on delirium, weaves at the limit of reality, are they caricatures of truth or photographs from life? For us viewers his installation is a great way to start doubting about clearly minimalist statements. The core of the problem lies in what is meant by reality, and better understand the intricate relationship between reality and fantasy. The most incredible fictional situations sometimes anticipate real situations, just as crude news stories, sometimes exceed the wildest imagination. The imaginative capacity is the foundation of scientific research, art is the most sublime consolation of life, "fiction" is not a bad thing in itself, but it can be a real good: as long as it is distinguishable and defined as real, as fiction "To pretend", in a playful or artistic sense (the Leopardian "io nel pensier mi fingo" / "in the thought I pretend"), helps us build, recreate, face reality. As a child well knows, that he can be helped to develop his own intellectual abilities, emotional, relational skills through play provided he is educated to distinguish between fantasy and reality. Even the adult sometimes falls into the trap, confirmed by the semantic ambivalence of the term fiction (simulation or falsehood). But, if you think about it, each story (invented, told, performed) has a meaning for whom creates it or benefits from it. While instead it is reality that in itself does not make sense, if not what we give it. Fiction cannot kill reality. Here is the problem, not only individual, but also socio-cultural: not always our society, consistently based on duplicity, appearance, superficiality, mass shouting helps to recognize the "good" fiction hidden in its folds.
The M.D.'s reflection is articulated on the space between generation and evolution. The artist questions himself about the origin of the real assuming the light and the nothing as generator elements which symbolically become white or black surfaces, however immaterial. On them the movement is given by the thickness, they are contours and larval volumes, geometries and shapes that sometimes look around and govern colour. The surprise of genesis melts with the creative magic. With a transitive and inverse process M.D. takes possession of the arcane, leveraging on the fundamental characteristic of humanity which is architect of its own cultural evolution thanks to abstraction, technique and technology. Simple lines draw complex geometries in the space, material is highly technological, pure surface and dynamic form seemingly spontaneous, as modernity teaches. Transparency is protagonist, there are still light and nothing inside, to whom harmony of the sign addresses a silent homage.
White deaths. Deafening silence.
The theme of white deaths described in a figurative emblem. The ambit relates to death of fatality in human existence, reinforced by the tragedy of the malicious event, behind which too often there is a background of pain, defeat compared to the will, that in work should always find a foundation for the social structure. Trespassing compared to the classic realism and ideologies of 20th century, there are however too many indelible signs in the mystical dimension of the Crucifixion, with the examples of the artistic European movements, which vary from Kirchner's impressionism (in which however the majesty of violent colours prevails) to the essential Duby's matrix (free in gesture, but very static, perhaps emphatic), then resumed in intimate terms by Francis Bacon (the latter deliberately catastrophic). "White deaths. A deafening silence" by Mirko Dematté also wants to remember Wilhelm Pabst's reporter experiences ("Kameradschaft”, 1931) and Bresson's photography, in the name of that gray band, made up of people forced to risk their lives to live, which are not in normality. The background is a textured backdrop, inside which the indefinite skyline of anonymous skyscrapers stands out, symbolically projected upwards modern towers of Babel but of which, in haste of becoming, the value and meaning are lost. In the front, only chromatic sign in the regular lattice of the scaffoldings, the crane breaks the central prospective and seems to move its arm like a scale on which the presences are still hanging from the thread, so embarrassing and therefore more dramatic, of the single crosses, mute but sonorous. Those of those who try to face a global modernity understood almost exclusively as an economic profile, found their place only among "fallen from work". It is an immediate representation, strong and countered, which wants to give them back, in death, the dignity they sought in life.