Enzo Cucchi

Paolo Curti & Co., Milan
Through April 24

For over twenty years, Enzo Cucchi has been one of the main exponents of Italian transavantgarde on the international arena. His paintings, at once barbaric yet refined, are dense with literary references and enigmatic symbolism, and marked with a deeply expressionist bent. His campaign to defend the "sanctity" of art—or, rather, to defend an art that is free, autonomous; one which cannot be reduced to some simple critical definition—is, as far as Secondo giorno, his latest solo show, would seem to indicate, undiminished.

The eight small paintings on display—suggestively titled Verde ospizio (Green Hospice), Foto-voglia (Photo-Desire), Un re magio (A Magi), Abisso d'acciaio (Steel Abyss)—are presented as a series of disassociated images. Etched out onto long strips of coarse jute canvas, they are both hung on the walls and set on metal supports. This creates an undulating route through the exhibit, which develops to form of a sort of “holy circle” enclosing the gallery space. In fact, the artist confirms that this serves as a “guard rail,” because the exhibition "is like a motorway.”

Perhaps it’s also possible to interpret this bizarre misé-en-scene as a sort of film of which only certain stills are visible. In these fragmented images of the artist’s poetic universe one can make out skulls on couches or in cars with the doors flung open; huge insects poised on pink and yellow faces; a packed movie theater where an enormous insect sits on a screen which depicts a person lying down. The catalogue, an integral part of the exhibition, has a black sandpaper cover and is shaped like an accordion, thus referencing the installation itself, and is attached to a tall, red-tipped stick. When taken up by the visitor, Cucchi believes this object could stand as a symbol of belonging to an “art tribe.”




Francesco Poli
Translation by Rosalind Furness