The ninth hour of the Christian liturgy is the prayer of mid-afternoon, to 15 for accuracy.
In this time of passage of the day, Pope John Paul II was struck by a meteorite on the legs of medium size. Her body, dressed up as the Jubilee, is lying on the ground, his hands firmly holding the auction of a crucifix. The Pope keeps his eyes closed, a wrinkle frowns, but overall his face is peaceful, does not seem to someone who has suffered such a condemnation from the sky, it looks dead, but dreaming or concentrate in prayer. His clothes are not torn apart by big black rock and even bloody, as if the meteorite had been carefully placed on his body already stretched. Above, a drummer in an early age, sitting in a corner with his feet suspended above the stage, alternated at a rate stillness broken and inaccurate. All this creates a situation of suspended time, which is expected at any moment someone who narrates the scene or song, or that raise a hymn or a psalm, but nothing happens, only the infinite iteration of the irregular heartbeat of the tambourine that awakens the Pope, still lying on the ground. No one intervenes to free his poor body trapped under the meteorite, a man in uniform will not be approached by anyone.
not the last American film is a scene taken from the usual brick by Dan Brown which puts the focus of the Vatican and its mysteries, but the brief description of Cattelan's work on display at the Royal Palace Milan. The ninth hour, precisely, is the name of the installation created nell'inquietante Sala delle Cariatidi.
La cariatide è una scultura che rappresenta una figura femminile con funzione di elemento architettonico di sostegno utilizzato al posto di una colonna. L’aspetto affascinante della sala delle cariatidi è che l’intero palazzo subì gravi danni nella notte del 15 agosto 1943 quando la città venne colpita da un bombardamento inglese contro gli occupanti nazisti. In realtà non furono le bombe a colpire direttamente l'edificio, ma esso venne distrutto da un incendio scatenatosi nei vicini palazzi che intaccò il sottotetto della Sala delle Cariatidi, bruciandone l'orditura lignea e causando così il crollo delle grandi travi che nella loro caduta travolsero la volta, il ballatoio e spaccarono in più points of the floor.
So, to sum up in a room that was partially destroyed by war and where the caryatids no longer hold anything in the mutilated, the Polish Pope, who has certainly contributed to the fall of the communist regimes of Eastern Europe and the consequent end of ideology , is bombarded by a meteor black without being mutilated in turn.
at the noon hour of human history, the ninth hour, a man heroically resisting the forces of evil are unleashed on the world again, while a clumsy drummer announces something that does not happen. The Pope is desperately lonely, clinging to his faith, but does not change (more) the story is repeated violent and equal to itself. How, in fact, occur.
This is my personal interpretation of the work by Cattelan, a contemporary artist, provocateur par excellence. In front of the Milan stock exchange, in Piazza degli Affari, Cattelan has ever erected a marble pedestal on a giant hand with the fingers cut off, except the medium. A sneer at the city of business or cut off a salute, then ridiculed, shut down, emptied? I leave to others the answer to the question, since it is not so much interested in the challenge rather than calling in the twilight of the heroes that I read in these works.
These days I discovered a small book of great value. It's called The Tomba di Achille ed è stato scritto in modo elegante e raffinato dal filosofo e saggista francese Vincent Delecroix. L’autore mescola la memoria personale del suo eroe preferito da bambino con lo studio di tutte le incrostazioni che lo stesso ha subito nei secoli a seguito degli interventi di tutti gli scrittori che ne hanno fatto il centro di una narrazione: Ovidio, Orazio, Euripide, Racine, Goethe, Byron, Dante, Metastasio, Shakespear, Simone Weill... Senza essere distratto da tutto quell’affabulare di sé, Achille cammina imperterrito su una linea dritta, certo che non esista ritorno possibile.
Cito alla lettera un brano del libro, edito da excelsior 1881 e tradotto in un italiano ricco e poetico da Riccardo Bentsik. Identificando immortality of the heroes in the series of successive lives of those in memory or give the word in their writings, he writes: There are times that babble and stutter, seasons of oblivion, the dark, a time when the world has little Corrugated eyes that are clouded by a rapidly blinding glare too, times when the world is tired of grandeur and dreams of the infinitely small, which has other concerns and other loves, in which his toothless mouth can not chew more than just a word in greek, in which his greedy fingers are not able to grasp without ruining what they touch. Cataleptic, therefore, the heroes who seems to sink into a sleep of marble, are left to sink in a mare inerte, muiono per un certo tempo, il loro corpo che diventa preda dell’archeologia.
E’mia opinione che noi ci troviamo pienamente, soprattutto in Italia, in una di queste fasi di sonno e di oblio degli eroi. La sconfitta di ogni ideologia e la mediocrità dell’attuale economia capitalista, l’unico modello che ci è rimasto, sono fenomeni comuni a tutte le nazioni del mondo, che hanno portato alla mancanza del sogno e della speranza in un mondo migliore. Se non c’è speranza, non c’è eroe. Achille non corre più e si addormenta.
Nel nostro paese, c’è di più e di peggio. Qui persino russa e sputacchia mentre dorme.
Tralascio comments on the heroic models proposed in the country: the vain tronista, the bold and powerful scorers tissue. Overflight and about the huge military-Popular applied with a lot of horse shows held in the capital to greet the dictator's friend and hundreds of young women hired to watch the improbable image of Quran lessons of Gaddafi, all while denying the places of worship to those who really wants to profess the same religion, only to throw them out if they pray in the streets or squares.
There's more and worse.
Recent events show us the total lack of interest or even the sneer to the founding moments of our nation: the resurgence and resistance. The next year marks the 150th anniversary of the birth of Italy as a unified kingdom through the joint efforts of many Italians, but some politicians in the government can afford to mock the national flag and anthem, and feel useless to celebrate this important anniversary, while unlikely Celtic rituals celebrating the country's schools and decorate with symbols that have no relation with our history. The resistance in the mountains of our fathers and grandfathers who have contributed to the liberation of Italy from Nazi occupation is mocked by a revision of history to deny that comes as a basic element of the Italian Republic. We would like to 'reconcile' the story or rewrite it so in the same way to remember the victims on both sides. Victims should be respect for human, but the history of Italy and its republican constitution should not be relining with a plastic cover as if it were old books. Instead, in this new republic of the joke and the jokes we continue to laugh and laugh, and everything looks normal, only to reconcile the positions cooking polenta in the streets, as if the government had turned into a field kitchen and its representatives dishwashers were the only one cook. The first chef, proudly showing a new hat for every occasion, claiming to be the best prime minister the last centocinquantanni, better therefore Cavour, Giolitti, Parri De Gasperi and all the others. And 'he who said it, and dishwashers whistle mix the vegetables while the recipe of the day. Meanwhile, in our part of a mayor you can buy full pages of newspapers to show dressed as a Roman gladiator, and celebrate itself in posters announcing his hometown as a burqa-free. In Valsesia? The Burqa? And who have you ever seen? It would be like if you claim to have invented the recipe for polenta without the addition of cous-cous.
Anyway, it is also true that these gentlemen have publicly applauded and supported by popular consent, and are worthy representatives of decline in this country. Achilles is puffed women who gained thanks to his power and meanwhile scullions prepares polenta without couscous in his palace and all the guests of the court laughing like crazy. It 'a party.
Meanwhile in Pompeii collapses gladiator Domus, L'Aquila is still a pile of rubble and Naples is under a mountain of waste. Here we are far beyond the twilight of the heroes, we are a parody of the Iliad made by Franco and Ciccio. There is nothing that kills more than the heroes of a bully's laugh court. For the next
by Cattelan, artist to this issue: President Napolitano and lying on the ground under a large trash bag. Her eyes are closed, with one hand ing the nose, the other holds him the Italian constitution.
I leave you to decide who would look like the little drummer boy and clumsy.
0 comments:
Post a Comment