A truly erratic psychology, that of Aldo Mondino, a man, a poet, an artist, devoted to his work as an enterprising inventor, innovator, capable of looking, simultaneously, backward and forward, leaving the verve of emotion to the present, always surprised to be doing something new, demystifying, but also attentive to tradition and sacralisation. Our acquaintance in Milan first, and then in Piedmont, went through Signo, a review of a few refined artists like him, Paolo Baratella, Achille Pace, Renato Mambor, Gian Marco Montesano, Alessandro Bazan, Santolo De Luca, Alfredo Romano, Arcangelo, Paolo Cotani, in Palazzolo Acreide at the Chiesa dell’Annunziata.
I remember the encounter in Siena, at Bagnai's, with a dark chocolate statue, intoxicating to the eyes and stimulating to the nose, as well as creating a great desire to devour it, something I refrained from doing out of politeness and the object's high cost.
We were supposed to have a lovely exhibition in Brisighella, but then it didn't happen, more with me, because of my tour of his Piedmontese villa, with a collector H.T. who wanted, wanted to buy everything, but then nothing came of it. And I move on to say, what should have been the great marriage of art and the market turned into a half-tragedy, albeit a bit comical. I arrive.
Upon leaving Caselle Airport, a luxurious white limousine, complete with a chauffeur in uniform, awaited us. We were seated in the guest seats, hats in hand. Then, a passage to a high-end butcher to buy two magnificent (so to speak) prime cuts of fattened Carrù beef, followed by a regal welcome from every perspective. Because this was Mondino: an aristocrat with a heart of gold, generous, unpredictable in his imagination, and as quick to madness as he was to genius. All well, all splendid, handshakes, embraces, toasts, a post-lunch nap.
Agreed on the price of the works, payment methods, deliveries, and the initiation of a comprehensive collaboration, only a small disagreement on the first instalment of payment.
January Mondino, February H.T. and so, one word led to another, it escalated to insults, shouting, and 'no'; from one to the other and the other to one. H.T. was unceremoniously thrown out of the house and I, out of politeness, had to escort him. A limousine, in my honour, cold and wordless to the airport. He, who later wrote to me and we spoke several times, but without ever discussing work again, and as for the other, not even a formal greeting. Now, both are dead and I think they've met up there and made peace, but they were, they had been too alike to collaborate effectively.
Of all the people I've met in my life, Aldo Mondino remains at the top. A great one!!!
KLESSIDRA | EDITED BY FRANCESCO GALLO MAZZEO
Italiano 
English (UK)