âYou would like that we were not here. But we are too emotionally absorbed by the homesickness of places that weâll see only from the windows of our Bentleysâ
An environment seemingly unreachable:
familiar to us as much as distant.
Paul Barsch
Pierre Clement
Michele Gabriele
Andrew Birk
Nuno PatrĂcio
Lucia Leuci
Monia Ben Hamouda
With text contributions by
Keiu Krikmann and Matteo Mottin.
Concept, documentation, curation: Michele Gabriele.
She is driving, angry. She is driving, sad. Sheâs been driving for hours, nowhere in particular â post-fight. Highway, industrial landscape â in transit. By now, together with fading daylight her mind is turning soggy and dropping off, out of focus. Her eyes are on the road, thoughts floating around her; some circling back, again and again.
Sheâs worn out from the fight, her emotional state and the smothering synthetic smell in her car are stirring up something; the spiralling thoughts are gathering, sheâs driving into a vortex.
Barely acknowledging it, she glimpses things she isnât really sure are there, objects or images she canât place â superfluous and not part of the landscape. A flash of blue sky, when itâs clearly getting dark. A round pattern, a bit detached and too close â what â doesnât matter. The bitterness and chafed vibes from before and the stuffiness of the car are closing in on her â leaving little room for anything outside â pickled, probed and gray â ugh, can she even be??
All the fights sheâs had in this car! Why do arguments always happen in the car? And then you are stuck in a wildfire in a tin box with no escape â that is just the worst.
With mom it had been long passive-aggressive streaks. Their fights were thick, like expired plasticine or shit, you couldnât get it off of you, you couldnât get the smell out. And the level of pettiness was unreal.
Something registered â like â she doesnât â umm no.
And then, with her â heavy screaming, fights so intense they were physically exhausting. It had obviously not always been like that, but eventually she had grow to resent everything about her, she had grown to hate her hair in particular, sometimes at night she had thought sheâs gonna cut her fucking hair off in a clump. Cut and run â just leave it â just â.
Heavy beats, gasping for air. Get â get the â fuck â fuck â out â out of â my car. I donât get mad!
A story so clichĂ© she was embarrassed to admit it. Another unplaceable object faintly flickered in corner of her eye, or in her mindâs eye, or somewhere in-between.
She now knows for sure, this car is a vehicle of fights â she canât get the exhaust fumes of confrontations out, everything is drenched in it. She needs a new car to vanquish the spirits. Somewhere along the road she has become like all those women laughing alone with salad, quietly gone mad â and she â will go off â blow off â up â and beyond. The neon letters are all fucked up, she canât read the signs anymore. This oneâs gone to the vortex.
___________________________
Facebook THU 12.01.2017 â 2:14 PM
MG: Hello Matteo, I wanted to ask you if you could come visit me one of these days. Thereâs something Iâd like to show you.
MM: Sounds good! Whatâs that about? Where do you wanna meet?
MG: Letâs meet at the Seregnoâs trains station, early in the morning. Catch the first train you can. And let me know by what time youâll be there.
MM: I could be there next Wednesday. Iâll catch the train in Turin at 5.50 AM and Iâll be in Seregno by 7.30. How about that?
MG: Thatâs great Matte!
MM: What is this all about?
MG: Iâve got a few things to show you. Telling you wouldnât be the same. You must see them yourself.
MM: Hello there Michele, itâs so good to see you here, just like the first time we met, when I came for the studio visit.
MG: There you are, of course I remember! Seregno never changes, like all these area actually. It waits for you but it never helps.
MM: On that matter, whatâs awaiting me in Seregno today?
MG: Weâre just leaving, weâre going to Milan. Please, get in the car. Thatâs no Bentley, some call it my wheelchair, but itâs still carrying me around.
MM: Why are we going to Milan? Did you change your mind? Iâd have waited for you there if you told me.
MG: We must go there together. Shall we leave?
MM: Do you mind if I keep this recorder on?
MG: Not at all.
MG: Look at this tunnel here, it connects Brianza and Milan. I used to get stuck in traffic for hours to get to the city center before this was built. I believe it has had a strong influence on my production, esthetically speaking. Look at the colors. Itâs new but still it looks like itâs been here forever. Itâs one of the longest urban tunnels in Europe. It repeats itself over and over, same doors, same streetlights. This makes it look shorter but itâll be around two kilometers long.
MM: Wait a minute, whatâs that? Did you see that? Just at the entrance of the tunnel. They looked like dreadlocks.
MG: They are dreadlocks, tied up and thrown there. They recall a sitting person, if youâve got that type of imaginary need. Still it looks like they fell there by chance. Has if someone threw them away, forgottenâŠ
MM: As if someone threw them from a running car. Can we go back to get a better look?
MG: Itâs better not to stop here, we must go on. Cars should be going at 90 km/h, but whoâs driving that slow?
MM: When we first met you used to have dreadlocks. I remember coming across Rastamen, they were always saluting you, beating their fist on their chest. Itâs interesting how we found those dreadlocks right here in this tunnel, almost as if you left them behind to move faster to the city centerâŠ
MG: Yes, I remember my dreadlocks! I didnât think about that! You know Paul Barsch is keeping them? He made an artwork out of them and he exhibited them for the project Cielo Milano curated by him and Tilman Hornig months ago. Come on, letâs get out of here, letâs catch the first exit.
MM: Wait, slow down, thereâs a small mouse!
MG: Fuck thatâs true!
MM: Donât squash it!
MG: Yes, Iâll be careful. The Lambro river runs around here, thatâs why itâs full of rats.
MM: Ok, it crossed the road. Now itâs under those, ehm, twelve antennas? What are those twelve antennas on the wall for?
MG: In this time of the year and this time of the day the light comes in a particularly white shade, desaturated and the objects outdoors look white just for a few minutes. Then the sky changes color and so do they.
MM: Thatâs true, those objects usually keep a strong relationship with the sky, the weather and the light, even if placed like that, at that height, they look like theyâre trying to show us a will to be listening and receiving in a place were, perhaps, thereâs nothing interesting to be listening to.
MG: I donât know Matteo, surely antennas are usually above us, we all know them but we rarely get to see them close. Assembled with shamanic aesthetics, with bamboo canes and plumes, it look like they are ironically showing us two different clichĂšs.
MM: The traffic is getting more intense, where are we?
MG: Weâre in the northernmost part of Milan. Letâs see if I can pull over.
MM: Careful, the car in front of you is stopping, thereâs something on the road. It looks like⊠is that salad? Wait, is that the work you made for the Bubble Tea show?
MG: Yes, I better move it today or Iâll get in trouble.
MM: Whatâs it doing hanging from the traffic divider?
MG: Well, Matte⊠consider this as a guided tour. This is âYou would like that we were not here. But we are too emotionally absorbed by the homesickness of places that weâll see only from the windows of our Bentleysâ: a group show.
MM: You curated a group show setting up the works on the road from Brianza to Milan?
MG: In a certain way, yes. Paul Barschâs work is in the tunnel that, for me, links my house to Milan. But all the others are in the city.
MM: Your works always have a lot to do with observing what surrounds them, and from that you develop them in a very sincere way, without being even bothered by the fact that the result might be disappointing. This work reminds me of the eating sculpture by Gianni Anselmo, only it looks faster: the lettuce is not withering, itâs being squeezed by the passing cars. Whatâs its title?
MG: âWhity-Trashy vol.3 (I stay if you hold me tight)â. Lately, itâs as if I felt a lot more freedom in formally using the elements in my work almost carelessly.
MM: Weâve been driving all afternoon, but we havenât come across any work for quite along time now. Is the show over? Itâs almost sunset.
MG: No, itâs not over yet but I thought we should have waited a little to see this one. Look up there! Thatâs âCloudsâ by Andrew Birk.
MM: It may be the time or the way you set it up, or maybe both, but that work looks extremely delicate and melancholy to me, as if it wanted to save an intimate and fleeting moment without telling us about it.
MG: Itâs been months now Iâve been observing the relationship between Andrew Birk and his work and Iâm entranced by it.
MM: Can you tell me more about it?
MG: Itâs the feeling I get, the number of canvases, the different ways of painting them. An erupting volcano. And every time heâs stripping himself down completely. Watching him working is amazing to me.
MM: Are you sure we can go this way? Isnât it a private road?
MG: Who cares. Iâve never seen anybody here. It gets you to a subway station. Can you hear the noise?
MM: Yes, I must tell you it makes me shiver. These orange streetlights, they always made me claustrophobic.
MG: Do they make you feel trapped even if we are outdoors?
MM: Yes they do, they make me feel so⊠wait, thereâs something next to that gate. Is it a painting?
MG: Yes, a digitalized painting by Nuno Patricio. Its got a metal structure holding it to the ground.
MM: It reminds me something I probably saw in a movie, but I canât recall what it is nowâŠ
MG: To me as well. Maybe it reminds me of a whole movie genre. When I was young I used to buy the weekly magazine âUFOs and Aliensâ. Do you remember that? Buying it made me feel better than the others, one step closer to secret knowledge.
MM: I was very fascinated by it as well, but then I remember thinking âif this stuff is that secret, then why can I get it so easily at the news-stand?â.
MG: The heating in my car comes and goes. Sorry about that, Matteo, I know itâs getting cold. Usually, it doesnât work when itâs cold while it works perfectly when you donât need it.
MM: Thatâs what weâre gonna do: pull over as soon as you can, Iâll smoke a cigarette, Iâll be cold so that when we get back in the car itâll be almost warm.
MG: That sounds just about right.
MG: Alright, Iâll stop here.
MM: Look, thereâs something in the grass. They looks like tiny dolls. Hey, theyâre Lucia Leuciâs from the exhibition at Tile Project Space!
MG: Iâve chosen to exhibit some of the works from Lucia Leuciâs latest solo show. âMamme Cattive e Bambini Creoliâ. Iâve set them up here, among the grass in the dark. The concept of being creole upon which sheâs been reflecting, the way in which she touches things. To me this really was one of last yearâs most inspiring art works. Seeing them here, as if they were left behind, forgotten, moves me.
MM: That may be because theyâre so delicate. Seeing them here, in such an anonymous lawn, so close to the highway, conveys a strange feeling of danger, as if they were the ones in charge.
MG: Probably, Iâve always felt as if they were the ones in danger, you know?
MM: Maybe it is so. Maybe, because of how they were made, itâs very hard for them to find somewhere where they belong. Maybe they really donât belong anywhere.
MG:I feel represented.
MM: Be careful, youâre getting too romantic.
MG:Letâs go, thereâs just one more work I want to show you. After that Iâll take you back to the station, itâs very late already and you might miss the last train back.
MM: Will we make it or is it too dark allredy?
MG: Of course weâll make it. Everybody passing through the highway will see it with us.
MM: What song is this? I like it, can you turn the volume up?
MG: âReasonâ by Spooky Black. Iâve been listening to this kind of music a lot, lately. Itâs called âsadboy musicâ, I think.
MM: It really sounds like that.
MM: Is that up there the work? I canât really read whatâs written upon it.
MG: Yes, you to look at it for a while to understand it. You should get closer.
MM: But now weâve already moved past it, I couldnât read it all. Itâs a bit like it happens with songs, you get some of the words but you canât understand it as a whole.
MG: The font itâs written in is an art work by Monia Ben Hamouda, while the text is the verse from a song. ââŠSearching for wrong, so you can point your stubborn finger at me again, at me againâŠâ
MM: I see why itâs at the end of the show, itâs like the credits.
MG: Yes, the credits.
MM: When it comes to emotions, itâs always hard to keep the focus on whoâs feeling them. Itâs easier to identify with the emotion itself. And this has been a very emotional trip.
MG: Thanks Matteo.
MM: Thank you.
â Matteo Mottin in conversation with Michele Gabriele
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