It is as if the studio from which he observes the human condition
before transforming it into sculptures, scale maps placed before
us for our contemplation, is concealed high in the clouds. As
though from the vantage point of a space-craft or a captive balloon,
the blind human struggle is reduced to the scale of a stupefied,
ridiculous, anguished, tortured nest of termites. From this sublime
and detached aerial perspective, the proud planetary theatre reveals
its calcined depths, the vain and cruel reality of a blind and
monochrome mineral traversed by monochrome, insensate forms, defirious
swarms of insects, crushing solitude, aberrant hordes. From above
the fray, no sounds, no voices are heard; a sidereal silence enfolds
the incongruous repetitive gestures of the minuscule actors, their
antennae, their elytra, feverishly intent on their miserable mistakes,
picking their way through wretched labyrinths of vanity. From
on high, scrupulous as a scribe, Soravia translates into sculpted
hieroglyphics the salient features of this absurd spectacle which
its sorry protagonists call history, progress, civilisation, the
path to redemption.
Domenico Porzio
Luigi Carluccio
Germano Beringheli
Gian Franco Venè |