Just as Francis Bacon twisted the mask of persona, turning it into a multifaceted form of the soul's face, in the same way (but with opposing outcomes) that Bernini flushed out the face of Louis XIV, Giuliano Vangi's (1931–2024) Etruscan sensibility has given us the abstract idea of the human being; not of this one or that one, but of its winged matrix, lost in nothingness. But it is precisely for this reason that it refers us to a sense of the infinite, of a profound essence mirroring itself in the vanished gaze and thereby creating an enigma that is timeless, the fruit of an imaginary acronia, capable of delving into the kinetic plurality of life's forms, seeking a unity that is never attained but is like an alluring siren, tempting and irresistibly attracting. He can be defined as an Expressionist, in his line of continuity that comes from Arturo Martini, from the singularity of his Dead Lover, who addresses no one and looks nowhere, but in her “inspirational mission” she concerns us all, each with their own particularity.
Ultimately, we are all alike, but we don't realise it immediately, because we are caught up in likes and dislikes. We understand it later, when emotions and feelings have subsided. Precisely with the same difference that exists between news reporting and history, where what seems important today appears a triviality tomorrow. Vangi operates within a particular metaphysics, imaginary, fantastical, surreal, with his ability to exclude clamour and noise, to concentrate on silence, which is where all true voices reside, a great chorus where the individual coincides with the cosmos. In his sculpture, there is a quality of introspection, that of suspension, dreamlike, unworldly, and in its etymological sense of abstraction, which resembles that which is astral, monadic, solitary, self-referential. This is his “figurative” sculpture, a profound investigation into the aesthetics of bodies, which are, in themselves, a primordial language, one that suffers the insult of time and its expressive fashions, but then, with a mental earthquake, restores the status quo ante, capable of traversing tragedy, death, but then, like the phoenix, to be reborn.
KLESSIDRA | EDITED BY FRANCESCO GALLO MAZZEO
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