“Our greatest fear is to feel deeply inadequate” Paolo Sorrentino might say.His mastery in grasping the meaning of existence allows me to make a reflection that I would like to bring to light.
Inadequate. Yes, inadequate. So in dystonia with the reality that surrounds us that at times we want to sink our faces in the clouds and look for an escape towards the sky, towards those stars that seem home to us. Because we all come from a seed that lies among the stars. Perhaps this is why we have this feeling, we are inadequate to that sky that we cannot physically reach, and we live thinking that the world is not our size, like a dress that is too tight or too loose, depending on the case. Inadequate to adhere to the story of that life already narrated by others, described in codes and uses that have always been tiring steps to climb and almost never paths to walk, perpetually busy finding a way to make our actions and thoughts match up with a reality really difficult at times to understand, and even more so to face. The desire to find the square, or at least try, was to take refuge in what could allow me an alternative, or rather "expanded" story of reality. The artistic approach was quite confusing at the outset, I must admit; covers and pages of school notebooks drawn or scribbled from top to bottom, diaries glued and decorated with colors and shapes of all kinds, attempts at metropolitan graffiti, confusing sculptures of wood logs found in my excursions, done without mediation and with good obsessive vigor -compulsive, even unconscious attempts at land-art, to leave a temporary mark in that constantly changing nature. Building stories also interested me, but I never found an ending, and the narrative became soliloquy in most cases. But it has always been my desire to build stories, to give a thread to the images that have followed one another in my unconscious; it was one of those worms impossible to extract from my mental constructions, and it still is. The teenage years between music and drawing gave me moments of real fun and lightheartedness, of welcoming normality, but also moments of real frustration seasoned with that permanent feeling of inadequacy.
The university years were the attempt to make a balance, to design, to bring an idea, a vision to paper; conceive those images and those living spaces as sets for the spectacle of life. The risk of giving one's ideas a shape, trying to realize a vision in a living and useful, solid and imperturbable realization. But it was like speaking a gaunt language, devoid of the fundamental lemmas for a correct understanding, in a progressive loss of contact with what led to the fundamental essence of things, making everything appear so damned useful for practical purposes but also so irremediably vain for purposes. of the knowledge of what is the engine of the world. This seems no longer useful to man, the ideals of the majority seem far from that creative, artistic and in that case architectural vision, which saw in the art of design an attempt to improve existence, the creation of places for man. and not for the cultivation of one's ego and for the exercise of its daily futility practices. It is enough for me to see the gigantic modern vanity sculptures that stand vulgarly towards the sky one after the other, in which the designer made a monument to his enormous personality, trying to make himself God in his arrogant hubris. But this is not Art, it was not and never will be. The progressive loss of the humanistic thrust meant that less and less people were told, and more and more idolized, and this made the one who aspired to feed the creative flame an inadequate chronic symptomatic.
So profoundly inadequate.Inadequate for the world, for the pragmatic flow of life, for existing in a form that encloses us, but which then, over time, we will discover that it is not Us.Only when we touch the cold surface of the limits that we have and have imposed on us, do we explore the range of possibilities that reality throws at us to shake us from the gray numbness that envelops us like a mantle, that of the illusion we had never grasped.Then that profound inadequacy shines through for what it is, a mental limit that has been programmed for you;a programming that we have never fully accepted because we have always maintained our link with the Source.We have never been inadequate, we have only felt inadequate.We are free from our inadequate personality only when we feel free to be what we really want to be, what we really want to manifest.
Here, brushstroke after brushstroke, letter after letter, I began to highlight what I have always strongly wanted from the beginning.Telling, in my own way.Art is not only the manifestation of the artist's mastery, but it is also and above all a way of connecting with the other to explore worlds never visited before, or to see a truth never observed with new eyes.Telling the profound and disconcerting truth of the beauty of the Soul of the World that hides among the individual sparks that in an eternal instant, travel the same path as you.This is the principle of everything to come, despite my feeling of inadequacy.