Tucci Russo Gallery, Turin 1990
This exhibition was composed like a landscape, with a progression of foregrounds and backgrounds.
On the lower floor of the gallery one moved between three-dimensional works as if in a real construction, even though it was a disappearing reality, with dimensions as large as transparent. A transparency in balance between corrosion and light. Moving, you witnessed a slight change of colour between one work and the next, as if each one were exposed to a different temperature coming from the atmosphere or each one was a litmus paper arranged to register chromatic changes. The windows were entirely covered by white paint, giving the impression that the walls were continuous. On the walls the frottage of gas manhole covers stacked next to one another, created enormous vibratile surfaces out of large quantities of black dots, all alike and all different, and by the obsessive and threatening repetition of the word GAS in the centre of the square of each canvas…
There were three typologies of works arranged according to a narrative sequence. On the lower floor of the gallery, along the walls, were the frottage of oils on canvas that wrapped up the area almost entirely; in the same space were scattered, in a disordered manner, large three-dimensional works arranged horizontally as if they had been laid down. On the upper floor, in an area that had been modified to create a clear-cut division between the space for displaying the works and the space for the visitors, were five Squadre Plastiche (Plastic Squares), each chromatically saturated towards black, its own colour being still perceptible due to the reflection of pure colour onto the wall.
The exhibition confronts the question of transforming the chromatic material from ethereal to solid. A journey of purification opposed to the kind that is most commonly represented (from solid to gaseous); the story of the crystallisation of some vibratile and poisonous material, which, evaporating from the underground, encounters various obstacles and becomes each time a different from the first floor, where the frontal, flat impact with the canvas is transformed into space and white-glacial structure (or rather into the lack of structure) destined for organisation and rest, to the upper floor where from this place of rest originate chunks of coloured material brought to the limits of perception, to the limits of difference, an almost black blue, an almost black mauve etc. The colour is kept prisoner, one can discern its moaning, and it is bringing along something of the poisonous material that created it. It is the story of a place of the origin of the colour, a chunk of nobility.
These works invade space with a body without flesh, a luminous skeleton…