Whenever I want you, all I have to do is dream….

Servae_ fluid icons, which we prepared and set up with Barbara Duran in the Castle of Santa Severa overlooking the Tyrrhenian, shares its dialogue in the course of the artist’s research on White, which guides her as an existential thread throughout her work, and appears in various aspects of her venture: the essence of the female figure: during this infinite, heavy, waning day: mother-goddess-generous-fertile-and-facetious mater, in her entire secular being: unthreading and weaving time in its endless current regression and of the past that does not go by….

This exhibition induces a miracle, a sacred memory runs through it, a genetic mind gathering phantoms; in its ceremonious quality it waves an endless fairy tale, soaring on winged tempests, lightly grazing mythographic iconologies linked to the cults dedicated to  the numerous feminine divinities, which marked the area of ‘Pyrgi’ with their invocations, turning into tales similar to ours: they once absorbed the psyche of the moon and performed a merciful deed: now intimately related as well is the Castle of ‘Santa Severa’ as a temple, a fortress and custodian of archaic remains, of primordial enclosures turning into natural archetypes and eloquent symbols….

It is a restless work of imposed order, which at the same time frees the senses and the structures that cover the current image, a door allowing a sigh to pass through, a whiteness of sound, subtly interweaving icons that loosely fall into a dull silence: liquefied apparitions, animated and swaying as Daedalean figures, towards the notion of a world we can admire but also violate, a fleeting sky open to the wreck of human sufferings and pleasures, neither sins nor gestures of goodwill, revealing a sequential current in which we understand a dissimilarity within ourselves or in others…

What does this absence unfold: between illusion or truth the deception is a twofold presence which releases a trapped soul, of invisible fairies, embraced by darkness.Executior somno simulacra, que noctis adoro. Whenever a desire awakens, all I pretend is to dream, a sublime probability, another formidable place, not a vision of pity or shame. A respite from distress, under another light than the one used to err, it enhances the art of evocation, a measure, and the world is just a name on the surface, a possible chance to manifest itself, in the perceptible expression of cosmic dimensions….

The excess of reality shatters the moving vision and verges towards a dancing space, a weightless fading eidolon, a tenuous solemn showing with no victim or sacrifice, the only purport of the form thou art, the real I myself; a continuous reckless rush, a living memory personified, where the soul is like a stage for the dawn, perhaps a flow trespassing the being in circular motion, in the echoing epiphany of Artemis Leukothea Aphrodite Ilizia Eos Uni Astarte Persephone Cora Demetra and Antigone, she who questions the well-known order and shouts, shouts, shouts: I am not here to join in hate, but love….
december2017ignaziovenafro