Clouds
curated by Denise Rana
J. M. William Turner with his painting laid the foundations for the birth of Impressionism and freeing himself from the peaceful bucolic beauty of nature was one of his greatest merits.
With him, color becomes a “transfigurative” element, making visible and tangible, through pasty lumps and light glazes, the mood that nature itself arouses in those who observe it.
The admiration for those atmospheres narrated, or rather experienced by the great English landscape painter through open skies with flashes of snapshot, led the author of this project through images to confront the “open work” sky.
The look that Giulio Gonella turns up there is curious but aware of the vertigo that generates meteorological volatility.
Unprepared almost to support all that is lost and renewed in the variables of the only true free space, guided by interest and amazement, he chooses to “remember” every passage, every trace, photographing, that is, recomposing a mosaic of countless tesserae – geography of his mood.
Meditated is the choice of the medium: the snapshot.
The polaroid preserves almost “the here and now” – slightly delayed – of the true potential, the impression / emotion of that gaze, the first.
In the chemical reaction of the photograph, the silver granule incorporates the image of that atmosphere, unique and unrepeatable, being itself part of it.
And it is no coincidence that magnification is decisive in the final fruition process of the work.
Making big is making more visible – that is, closer – and the distance to shorten here is the one with the space and time of the chosen instant.
The result is a palette of grainy dust, that material of the invisible which, from indigo to purple, preserves that luminous spectrum of possibilities and incalculable variables.
Large paintings, large squares, changing portions of space of overwhelming and poetic inner storms.
Mirrors of that meteorological identity that with the clouds heralds cyclical cries.
A “visible” wind seems to blow from these images, that breeze that just punctuates the skin and makes, of that emotion, the certainty of any arrival of storm. And spring.
