A MAN WALKING ACROSS A PIAZZA - Erupting ( UOMO CHE CAMMINA SU UNA PIAZZA, Erutta

“A MAN WALKING ACROSS A PIAZZA
Erupting”

etching paper, aluminium, copper wire, iron, wheels, glasses, wine, hife-system
89 x 159 x 50
2012


When I first started to ‘imagine’ this sculpture in my mind’s eye, I saw exactly what it would look and sound like. The echo of steps signifying the long walk across first the vertical and then the horizontal plane, before climbing to the upper part of the sculpture itself, in a crosswise movement with stops in the centre and at the edges. The there is the ‘burp’ or the ERUPTION - the earthquake. Not just in terms of a sound, but also in the title – deliberately ambiguous – the same ambiguity which might insinuate itself into the mind of the spectator the moment his glance wanders to the glasses of wine: “Am I supposed to drink that wine, or not?; what’s in the glass? Wine or blood?; “why is this part the closest to the ground?”.
The decision to use a reflecting material (aluminium) for the upper level was taken essentially so that the reflection formed by the lower part of the piece – the ‘walking’ surface of the man/sculpture – could be seen exactly from overhead, on the vertical axis. I can’t be sure whether, when seen by the spectator, the reflected shape might lose some of its impact, and the spectator some of his or her awareness of the ‘positive’ image (above) and therefore find themselves caught up in a kind of transference.
The ‘walking’ surface is constructed by several layers of etching paper covered here and there with randomly scattered depressions, barely visible indentations that at a passing glance might be mistaken for perforations, creating a wave-like effect on the vertical axis.
The walking plane perches on a parallelepiped also made from layers of etching paper glued together whose central point allows us, if we wish, to peer through the different layers, of paper, of sensation, of practically anything. It is a passage, not an opening. Like the pores in our skin there is no direct relationship between the inside and the outside because the connection goes far deeper than that and bridges any perceived gulfs or chasms.
The pieces of paper used to form this structure are cut by hand on a horizontal axis and then glued together. Each level of the layers is mathematically/geometrically positioned, so I had to make a host of decisions about every tiny detail and the relationship had to take into account the vertical elements next to and the horizontal elements opposite the structure. The other parts on the aluminium elements represent other lands, although we have no idea how near to or far from the piazza area of the man/sculpture they might be.
The technical equipment underneath the aluminium sheet was designed to fit in with the overall sense of the piece and therefore no particular attempt has been made to disguise it.
I used copper wire for the man, creating him by twisting and inter-weaving it; I wanted to use a material that would clearly demonstrate its malleability, the complete precariousness of its shape, its enormous potential for change. However, if we look carefully at the man/sculpture, we will detect a certain flamboyance, a sense of ostentation; the shape itself, the way it strides towards a definite objective and the impossibility of losing the memory of that shape. It is a figure whose memory is not a labyrinth with walls, but one which has the consistency of a liquid, constantly in flux.
The sculpture is also, at the end of the day, an object. In this case it is a hostess trolley that carries food, sensations, even the potential for trouble (what happens if any of the glasses break?!); its metal wheels move along a track following their own groove.
It’s a cheerful, welcoming, hospitable sculpture – it wants to share itself with you, not drag you in against your will.
You can consume it, renew it, sing its praises, puzzle over it, worship it, you can even howl at it if you want….it all depends on the mood you’re in!