CIRCUS 2 : Bianca Sforni visits Federico Fellini

Rosanna Albertini about

 BIANCA SFORNI, FEDERICO FELLINI and JEAN GENET

— LOVING THE CIRCUS AND ITS ILLUSION OF DEADLY RISKS THAT TURN RIGHT —

“On n’est pas artiste sans qu’un grand malheur s’en soit mêlé. De haine contre quel Dieu? Et pourquoi le vaincre?” (JEAN GENET) You won’t be an artist without the big danger which goes along with an artist’s life. Which God would you hate? And why should you defeat him? [her? it?]

An odd burden hangs over each artist, over each of us; it takes at least two forms: the one in the mirror, we fill it daily with imagined qualities. The other is the image of us in other peoples’ eyes, the one who dances in their minds. They are both images.

Their truth fades away like clouds, never stops changing. But we all strive to shape an imaginary “us” as if we were acrobats. A tightrope-walker feels like dying before he walks on the rope, not when he falls. As Genet said, he dies before appearing.

Paris, 1992. Bianca had prepared her meeting with Federico with the same anxiety of an acrobat before the show. Six months were consumed by waiting, asking for a day, a time. Letters and phone. It was the dawn of fax machines. E-mails only for scientists in research centers.

Rome, Summer 1993. At Fellini’s door, she rings the bell. It sounds like chirping birds. They were maybe in her mind. Her folder with new CIRCUS photos tight under her arm, she is on the rope. When Federico opens the door the windows of the wall behind him spread a sweet light, slightly golden, typical of the Roman afternoons. “Bianca, ma quanto sei piccola” -he exclaims. Piccola means young, in this case. “How young you are.” Not a giant, but Bianca isn’t short neither.

He had probably imagined a tough professional photographer at the top of her career, if she had dared to be in touch with him and more, to ask him to write a text about her images taken during Circus performances. In front of him was a dreamer, a young woman petrified by fear. They talked about cats and monkeys. A bunch of cats were at home in that room, one was striped. Federico looked at the photographs and said “Yes, I’ll do it.” And he did it for sure, from up there in the sky, throwing words among the falling leaves. October 31 he left the earth.

BIANCA SFORNI, Circus 2, 1992, Hand colored gelatin silver prints, 23 x 17.5 cm Courtesy of the artist

BIANCA SFORNI, Circus 2, 1992,   Hand colored gelatin silver print, 23 x 17.5 cm
Courtesy of the artist

BIANCA SFORNI, Circus 2, 1992   Hand colored gelatin silver prints, 17.5 x 23 cm Courtesy of the artist

BIANCA SFORNI, Circus 2, 1992    Hand colored gelatin silver print, 17.5 x 23 cm
Courtesy of the artist

BIANCA SFORNI, Circus 2, 1992   Hand colored gelatin silver prints, 23 x 17.5 cm Courtesy of the artist

BIANCA SFORNI, Circus 2, 1992    Hand colored gelatin silver print, 23 x 17.5 cm
Courtesy of the artist

BIANCA SFORNI, CIRCUS 2, 1992   Hand colored gelatin silver prints, 23 x 17.5 cm Courtesy of the artist

BIANCA SFORNI, Circus 2, 1992    Hand colored gelatin silver print, 23 x 17.5 cm
Courtesy of the artist

BIANCA SFORNI, Circus 2, 1992    Hand colored gelatin silver prints, 23 x 17.5 cm Courtesy of the artist

BIANCA SFORNI, Circus 2, 1992    Hand colored gelatin silver print, 23 x 17.5 cm
Courtesy of the artist

 

… il faut aimer le Cirque et mépriser le monde. Une enorme bête, remontée des époques diluviennes, se pose pesamment sur les villes : on entre, et le monstre était plein de merveilles méchaniques et cruelles : des écuyères, des augustes, des lions et leur dompteur, un prestidigitateur, un jongleur, des trapézistes allemands, un cheval qui parle et qui compte, et toi.

Vous êtes les résidus d’un âge fabuleux. Vous revenez de très loin. Vos ancêtres mangeaient du verre pilé, du feu, il charmaient des serpents, des colombes, ils jonglaient avec des oeufs, ils faisaient converser un concile de chevaux.

Vous n’êtez pas prêts pour notre monde et sa logique. Il vous faut donc accepter cette misère: vivre la nuit de l’illusion de vos tours mortels. Le jour vous restez craintifs à la porte du cirque – n’osant entrer dans notre vie – trop fermement retenus par les pouvoirs du cirque qui sont les pouvoirs de la mort. Ne quittez jamais ce ventre énorme de la toile.    JEAN GENET

WALL PAINTINGS

Mitchell-syrop001

Mitchell Syrop, Final notes on paper ready to be transferred to the wall, circa 1996

1996 (circa):  MITCHELL SYROP THINKING OF IMAGES AND PAINTING THEM AS TEXTS

Mitchell-syrop002

Mitchell Syrop, Final notes on paper ready to be transferred to the wall, circa 1996

MITCHELL SYROP THINKING OF TEXTS AND PAINTING THEM AS OBJECTS

Mitchell-syrop003

Mitchell Syrop, Final notes on paper ready to be transferred to the wall, circa 1996

These notes were transformed into  ‘wall paintings’ on three walls at Rosamund Felsen Gallery, Bergamot Station.

The Socialist Painter

 ALBERTO ALBERTINI from Milan about ORESTE ALBERTINI 


Italy 1925, Beginning his life as a painter


 

ORESTE ALBERTINI, Grigna II. 1026  Oil on canvas, 240 x 126 cm.

ORESTE ALBERTINI, Grigna II. 1926
Oil on canvas, 240 x 126 cm.

The socialist painter, positivistic and progressive as he was, paradoxically became the painter of the good and healthy Lombard bourgeoisie. Not only though, for his notoriety extended as far as Rome. The reasons why this happened are numerous, but the way he painted comes first: not conventional nor revolutionary.

Let’s go back to earlier times. His training dates from the dawn of 1900 in a symbolism-divisionism atmosphere. Gaetano Previati, Giuseppe Pelizza da Volpedo, Giovanni Segantini. OA’s paintings actually had a short period of divisionism. He ignored futurism, but judged rightly the value of Boccioni. The beginning of his professional life as a painter coincided with the coming of Fascism. Cultural isolation was a state of mind for OA, partly due to the nature of the Italian territory, and partly to the financial straits in which he grew up. The fascist era, moreover, caused him to keep a firm distance from the official trends that were supported by the government, I remember Carrà, Sironi. Unfortunately, I love Sironi’s urban landscapes.

OA had intentionally refused to be involved in Italian cultural life, which was also far from the Parisian ferment. Having the opportunity to be in a collective trip with painters to Paris, he gave up. A demanding trip? Who knows! Bad and good, this Italian isolation makes me say the important painting of the beginning of the 1900’s is Italian. Paris was certainly a melting pot of ideas and great artists, but many of them were foreigners; and the Italian journey wasn’t less significant, on the contrary.

I don’t believe OA would have been a different artist had he embraced a more international life; even shaped by culture, tradition and places, what prevails in an artist is his character. And OA’s character included two parallel pillars: the pride not to yield to the spirit of his time and an extraordinary technical ability. He was a high end artisan, from family tradition and professional practice. The way he could give a body and material consistency to the landscapes’ volumes seems to me extraordinary.

My presence next to him as a child, while he painted, fills my vision. I often went out with him and watched him while painting outdoor, and more than anything else I absorbed the charm around him. I used to curl up by a hill’s shoulder to protect myself from the wind. In March the sun is barely warm. I could perceive the same atmosphere he was painting. He was able to transfer his perceptions into the painting; that’s what his paintings give me back, those immersive moments. If this was the goal, his painting couldn’t have been different, nor did he really want to paint in a different manner. It wouldn’t be fair to say he was out of his time: stylized trees, as well as the houses’ volumetric consistency, when houses appeared, talk of 1900. His ambition was to follow his own road pursuing his personal aim (like the invention of a point for a drill). In times of revival of the 1400’s style of painting – which brought up quite good outcomes – OA’s search wanted to be self-directed even if, as we know well, time is where we belong. In the end the artist emerges and the public, also the bourgeois public, understands him -maybe their reading will be different from mine- but they grab it, the value of his art.

ALBERTO ALBERTINI, Photographic portrait of Oreste

ALBERTO ALBERTINI, Photographic portrait of Oreste

A note about “superior dilettantism,” and Eugenio Montale resisting the fascist rhetoric.

By WILLIAM ARROWSMITH

In his 1925 essay, “Style and Tradition,” Montale [Italian poet Eugenio Montale] expressed the hope that his work “might contribute to the development of a cordial atmosphere of allusion and understanding in which an artistic expression, however modest, might emerge without being misinterpreted.” The result would be a welcome climate of what he termed “superior dilettantism.” By this he meant … knowingly mediated and humanly discerning engagement with tradition, an attitude utterly distinct from the Fascists’ shoddy pretense of renewing a past greatness of which they had no understanding whatever. … What mattered to Montale was that living men should not do violence to their own memories by declaring, like the Futurists, that the past has been superseded; or like the Fascists, that the past was Fascist too; or by the mandarin littérateurs, tat the past they had embalmed should mortify the living. 

Paradossalmente il pittore socialista, positivista e progressista, fu il pittore della buona e sana borghesia lombarda, ma non solo di quella perché ebbe sempre ottimi riscontri fino a Roma. Questo si spiega in tanti modi ma soprattutto con la sua pittura, né convenzionale né rivoluzionaria. Occorre rifarsi alle epoche. La sua formazione risale agli albori del ‘900 in clima di simbolismo – divisionismo. Previati, Pelizza da Volpedo, Segantini. Di fatto ebbe un breve periodo divisionista. Ignorò il futurismo ma apprezzava Boccioni. L’inizio dell’attività  pittorica definitiva coincise con l’avvento fascista. L’isolamento culturale in cui OA si muoveva era già sensibile sia per la natura del territorio italiano, sia per le condizioni economiche in cui era cresciuto. Il periodo fascista poi determinò il suo distacco completo dalle correnti ufficiali supportate dal regime, mi ricordo di Carrà e Sironi.  Malauguratamente amo i paesaggi urbani di Sironi! Volutamente non aveva voluto partecipare alla vita culturale italiana, se vogliamo, staccata dai fermenti parigini. Avrebbe dovuto partecipare a un viaggio collettivo di pittori a Parigi ma non ne fece nulla. Un viaggio impegnativo? Mah! Questo isolamento, relativo dell’Italia, mi fa dire che in realtà la pittura del primo novecento è italiana. Parigi era sì un crogiuolo di idee e grandi artisti, ma in gran parte erano stranieri e il percorso italiano è stato diverso ma non meno significativo, anzi. L’OA, comunque, penso non si sarebbe comportato in modo diverso perché è vero che gli artisti sono il frutto di molte componenti di cultura tradizioni luoghi, ma soprattutto, se sono artisti, prevale il loro carattere. E OA era caratterizzato dall’orgoglio di non piegarsi allo spirito dei tempi e parallelamente da una capacità tecnica straordinaria. Era un alto artigiano, di famiglia e per le professioni che aveva praticato. La capacità di dare corpo, consistenza, materalità ai volumi dei paesaggi mi pare straordinaria. Io tutto questo lo vedo in relazione alle mie presenze, da bambino, quando dipingeva. Spesso uscivo con lui e lo vedevo dipingere ma soprattutto assorbivo l’incanto che vi aleggiava. Mi raggomitolavo contro una riva, al riparo del vento, al sole tiepido di marzo. Percepivo l’atmosfera che lui dipingeva. Penso che avesse le stesse percezioni e queste riusciva a trasferire nel dipinto, questo mi rievocano i quadri, l’atmosfera, quei momenti. Se questo era il suo obiettivo la sua pittura non poteva essere diversa, né lui voleva che fosse. Né si può dire che fosse fuori dal suo tempo; la stilizzazione degli alberi, la consistenza volumetrica delle case, quando vi apparivano, indicavano che il ‘900 non era assente. La sua ambizione era quella di percorrere una strada personale, sua (come l’invenzione della punta da trapano), che mirasse al risultato che si era prefisso. In tempi di ricerca e ritorno alla pittura del ‘400, che peraltro ha dato frutti niente male, le sua ricerca voleva essere autonoma, anche se sappiamo che dei tempi si è comunque figli. L’artista alla fine emerge e il pubblico, anche borghese lo percepisce, forse non legge l’opera dal mio punto di vista, ma ne afferra il valore.

Oh Happy Day

Yeats reads Keading
HILJA KEADING, Oh Happy Day 1996,  still from video.

HILJA KEADING, Oh Happy Day 1996, still from video.

As W.B. Yeats put it, it’s a story of Mask, Innocence, Folly, Creative Mind, Simplicity, Abstraction, and Body of Fate. Phase Three of Part III in A Vision, 1928. The woman becomes an image “where simplicity and intensity are united.” This is not TV, it’s a punch on our face, a ringing bell into our dormant state of mind. It’s exactly what Yeats was told by invisible voices, but “he” in his text is replaced with “she.”

 

 

 HILJA KEADING, Oh Happy Day 1996, Single Channel Video, 3′ 49″

“She gives herself up to a kind of clodhopper folly, that keeps her intellect moving among conventional ideas with a sort of make-believe. Incapable of consecutive thought and of moral purpose, she lives miserably seeking to hold together some consistent plan of life, patching rugs upon rugs because that is expected of her, or out of egotism. On the other hand … if she is content to permit her senses and her subconscious nature to dominate her intellect, she takes delight in all that passes; but because she claims nothing on her own, chooses nothing. … Almost without intellect, it is a phase of perfect bodily sanity, for, though the body is still in contact in supersensual rhythm, it is no longer absorbed in that rhythm; eyes and ears are open [clean, I would say in this piece]; one instinct balances another; every season brings its delight.”

Oh Happy Day.