I saw it again during my COVID-19 vaccination, entering the lair of fantasy and architecture, putting aside all the petty squabbles about a few extra centimetres (it seemed like a remake of what happened with Calatrava’s bridge in Venice), asking the great artist (because an architect, if they aren’t an artist, is out of place, a misfit) to do what the municipal technical offices should have done, who in their modest attitude have filled Italy with anonymous, insignificant little works, detrimental to our urban and architectural history.
The Cloud is a great abstract work of art, in the “tradition” of Cascella, Pomodoro, Uncini, Somaini, with its own originality, which is a great plastic installation and at the same time a functional architecture, which is never anything else, never an abstruseness, as evidenced by the work of Zaha Hadid, in Afragola or in the port of Salerno.
This is a strategy of transversality, which internally provokes envy in Gaudí, while its skin fully fits into the forma urbis of the Eur, which is not a district of Rome, but a revival of the millennial city that is monumental, yet also functional, serving biographical life more than biological life, asserting the right to continuity within discontinuity. The Eur possesses everything the Nuvola has, mutatis mutandis, poetry in the logos and science in the topos. One, a hundred, a thousand such experiences, if we don't want to decline in architecture, of things that are old when young and insipid in old age. Fuksas, or a tale of recklessness, of imagination, which is a way for postmodernity (not a copyist and traditionalist) to stand alongside Bernini and Borromini, because we cannot afford to praise the past and be nobodies in the present, but must don the mantle of protagonists, who cannot be everyone, but all those who, like Fuksas, know, know, yet wish to explore the unknown.
KLESSIDRA | EDITED BY FRANCESCO GALLO MAZZEO
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