Within this magazine, entirely dedicated to the Art of Maestro Andrea Roggi, you can enjoy a different slant.Â
The sensations and the most significant moments of each exhibition, the thinking behind the creations, curiosities and cultural references immersed in a collage of images with a strong emotional impact showing the moments before and after the exhibition itself.
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Matera is inextricably linked to my soul. This may be mere suggestion, I do not deny it. Yet the heritage that this city holds within it, a heritage rooted in prehistory and rooted in that time when human beings began to melt metal, well, it springs from everywhere and I believe I can grasp it. In other words, I feel gratitude towards this city. I feel gratitude towards those ancestors who inaugurated the working of bronze. They are Prometheus. They are titans who were able to follow a sublime spark, crossing fears, crossing the unknown. Indeed, the greatest lesson they have left us is not so much about technique as it is about the value of foresight. They mastered almost unalterable materials by sheer force of intellect because they were not content with the surface. Therefore, my homage to this lineage cannot only coincide with the development of casting methods. The true homage that I hope to implement, that perhaps we should all try to implement, is the overcoming of our fears in order to reach the essence of things.
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Walking around Venice, going from one Campo to another, crossing narrow alleys and then finding yourself above a bridge watching the canals - and time - flow by is a pervasive, intense feeling. It is indescribable. Compared to every other place I have visited, this city imparts a positive, unique sense of suspension. It is like being on Laputa, the flying island described by Jonathan Swift in Gulliver's Travels. It is as if there were no foundations but rather boundless celestial whales.
Yet, to this day, the greatest emotion I have experienced in this place has been caused by the sight of my sculptures placed in the centre of the city, in harmony with the most beautiful views. This is certainly priceless. It is the perception of being able to become, somehow and just for a while, part of the very fabric of Venice, part - however tiny, however fleeting - of its history. This is a thought that conveys to me all the energy of art, all the energy of life. It gives me insight into the meaning of existence, the meaning of things. Because my thoughts can be grasped by other people, they can be shared and they can be made their own. We can create an ideal exchange that transcends space and time. An exchange that imprints itself on the soul. Eternally
It is the geometry of Asolo that has captured me from the first moment. The sense of measure, of harmony that that village emanates is like a balm for the soul. There is silence, there is peace, yet every glimpse, every detail whispers softly. They are memories of love, they are memories of beauty, etched in time.
In a way, that city brings to mind one of the first sculptures around Knowledge that I made. Yes, because when observed carefully, Asolo seems to soar towards the sun. It seems to arch frontally in favour of the light. It is attracted to it; it desires it intimately. I walked for a long time through the alleys of that place and it was as if my emotions were polarised towards gentle horizons. I was able to experience the power of a torrential flow of positive feelings, overlapping freely. Like so many opaque shadows, overlapping one another, generating an intense darkness. Well, I experienced the exact opposite: an infinity of opalescent rays that, together, gave rise to a resplendent, immeasurable glow. Words are not enough to describe this, I realise. Nevertheless, I believe we should let ourselves be carried away by these moments. They immediately reconnect us to our essence.
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Entering Venice via the Grand Canal, lulled by the leaps of a motorboat, is a wonderful feeling. One feels an indescribable freshness. It does not matter how harsh or mild the climate really is. It is almost like diving; like plunging into a refreshing spring.
Yet, for me, to date, the most exciting way of accessing it has not been by luxury boats or sports vehicles. I experienced the most intense sensation when I sailed across the lagoon and then passed between the city's palaces, standing on a transport boat, a mototopo, as those who work there say. In short, with a spartan vehicle, soiled with oil and full of scratches and bump marks. A vehicle equipped with a crane and tools scattered around.
Embarking on the journey from the edge of the lagoon, at dawn, when it is draped in shades of pink and purple; enjoying the stillness of a community that is not yet in full swing; watching my works, lying on the barge, swaying sinuously as the hull breaks the waves. All of this is a prelude to an achievement that, somehow, I have dreamt of all my life. And which is now coming true.
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