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Nodes contamination Redivo

Our time is like a great enigma, elusive, product of many formal segments, highly individual, in the throes of a strong radical anthropology, with a striking attention to the transformation, to the originality, implemented with a continuous path, winding and intriguing, of slides and transgressions, oriented at non-membership, even when - as in the the visual arts, both traditional and experimental - are placed inside an understandable interpretative scheme however elusive, in constant metamorphosis.
There are few, very few, willing to surrender a little of themselves, to their own originality, to share it with others, breaking the wall of isolation, of the exaggerated individualism, narcissism, even when necessary, to create a legendary network, made of formal inventions and gestural suggestions, where everyone can read a little more of himself in the world of others and of the world in its own interior universe.
It is a widespread attitude, contaminant, where the denials and affirmations compared to nomenclature of tradition and to the mysteriousness of the trial (leading to the unsayability) of the creative works - which are more advanced in their materiality of the verbal language because they do not have the communication responsibility of this last - being able to fully settle on the expressive side, as an acknowledgment of visibility, openness to the sublime, as essentiality to which take note, both visually and in wholness of the sensory values.
This leads to a large schizophrenia, to a waste of energy, in activities wavering between concealment and revelation, so much as to say that the painting of our time, painters and artists of our time, have lost all sense of tragic and drama, shaping the playful moment as a sort of outer shell, used to get apart from the others, like a sort of personal maze, which they use to set themselves apart.
But, in presence of events whose matrix and corporeality are necessarily located within a doubt in progress, I'm not sure that telluric and structural changes, in the way to capture and live feelings and emotions, have happened, rather has changed the way to represent them, to relate, in a verbal, narrative or poetic form and above all changed the way we represent them, to make material factura, as a mix of solidity and liquidity, touchable like dynamic effect of the pictorial figment, perceivable, like the visibility of the invisible.
Gualtiero Redivo, with his wild and disordered activity, made up of unpredictable twists of composition, of resolute confrontation, umoral fragments of life and of its continuous vision, in terms of action and reaction, a continuous cycle, without intermission, as if his superego, imposed inflexible to him - but in the end is the emotional, psychological and humoral plot which choose, with poetic and architectural will -, in the wake of the long wavy transitivity recalls Burri, as flesh of the composition, reminiscent of Fontana, as sublime spatiality, reminiscent of Manzoni, aggregate provocative and irritating, but also processing, which starts from dadaism and reaches up to the territories where today prosper characters like Anish Kapoor, Hermann Nitsch, Damien Hirst.
I know, i'm opening a nasty cut, serrated convexity and concavity, not linear in its poetic and conceptual explication, where not all the good stay with the good and not all the bad stay with the bad. Because in the time of our spiritual and biological life there are no nett separations and everything mingles inexorably, because drama and tragedy have lost every romantic connotation, each halo of legend, scattered in the forest of visibility, of sensational at all costs, for a moment of video, of newspaper and then immediately shutdown of any success, until the next event, ready for the trash, the landfill, in the totalitarian realm of the refusal.
Now, Gualtiero Redivo intervenes (in the sense that it can act) as part of an intrigued querelle, between chance and necessity, which is the emergency object's catcher that is no longer an object, thing that is no longer a thing, to propose them differently, to a new need, like he's saying to the many, every man for himself, without much theoretical premises, without bringing so many illusions, with the strength to enter in other times and in other places, by force of the quid, which it is created, in the fight of the do against the not to do, in the light against the shadow.
It consists precisely in this way of being and doing the core strength and originality of these works, which in their genealogy have to give so much to so many, culture and anthropology of language, type of expression, emotional genre, stylistic anarchy, in the knowledge that the work, this kind of work, as the dodecaphonic concert, is unique, in a hundred, in a thousand works which resemble each other, by a little or a lot, with whom you may assimilate the moods: we can claim that they are the accumulation of metamorphic materials, formed in existential terms and almost mystical of a personal vocation to pictorial arts, a baffling individuality, which does not bend to the reversed virtues of fashion and to the vagaries of the seasonal fickleness, which owes nothing to anyone but only to itself and to its indefatigable mirror.
In this sense, this panopticon of the inverted and disjointed verisimilitude, of baffling visual physicality, it is expressed as true spirit of the time, of the short century just past and the enigmatic hours of the present, of the instant which escapes and scratches any residual virginity, marking a real divide between those who live in a different way at the same time, each appropriating of a point of view, made of such purity, but also such mixture that comes from the infinite passion of the doing, in terms of a sublimated and metaphysical eroticism. It so happens that for each of us, the artist, half wizard and half priest, enclosed in his ego so entangling and labyrinthic, puts a portion of its secret and of its intimacy, inherent in his personal sensibility, his way of feeling and see, to make it hear and see to us.
A great game, elaborate and refined, in the end, made up of a complicated and narcissistic intersection of opaque mirrors, which are the imaginative anarchies of the values of composition, of the making and unmaking of languages and quid, which propose the preoccupation of saying without saying, focusing on the expression as spontaneity, of the appearance stolen to horizontally and vertically ordered codes.
Strings that are no longer strings, but plots and harmonies, plastics that are not more chemistry, but alchemy, growths that are not exuberances, but tactility, implosions which are layered enrichments, pictorial textures, as visual and fantastic intensities, collages as mixed techniques of the diversity, to assert a sublime overcoming of the figurative, done in a rhythmic and poetic way, so that nothing can be presented immediately with poor nudity, because every time it hovers an arrogant and baroque spirit that invokes the nothing, but it aspires superbly at the all, a sort of congress of the anachronism and supreme contemporary of the art.
On this point, converge the moments of a disorder, which never enters into a crisis, because lives with it, in the universe of repetition, a symbolic exchange of simulation and dissimulation, in which the artist gives the formless signaling cards, "transformist", to participate (and possibly) win the bet of the incommunicability, with the invisible and solid wall (true strength of the paradox) that rises around everybody as species and around each one as individual, maxime if artist, who lives the special condition of the lucid madness, of the journey to accomplish in the immobility between prose and poetry, torment and ecstasy, in a continuous swing.
So the humanly rich and complicated Gualtiero Redivo's context, full of explosive energy, brood "madly" for a season in hell (quoting Rimbaud), ends up being a test of painting, a way of going beyond the ordinary, that appears and disappears, toward the irrevocable fixing of images that go beyond words, in a disseminatio, here and elsewhere.