From the Ashes of the Past, the Resources of the Future
Akira Zakamoto. The industrial hub of Porto Marghera. The setting chosen by the Turin painter for the canvases made for this exhibition is emblematic. A choice that is not casual — laden with deep meaning — leaving little room for interpretive doubt. The birth and development of Porto Marghera date back to 1917, when the Venetian entrepreneur Volpi obtained from the Ministry of Public Works the financial management of the project for building the industrial port. Within fifty years the industrial zone tripled, and from a production tied to shipbuilding it became a driving centre of the petrochemical sector. The economic boom increased production, and with it multiplied the problems of air and lagoon-water pollution and the serious, documented consequences for workers' health. A theatre of great corporate mergers, battles and union protests, with the crisis of the petrochemical sector Marghera began to fold in on itself again. Progressively the factories were abandoned, awaiting a project of requalification and reclamation of the area. And it is precisely at this moment that, under leaden skies saturated with pollution and behind menacing columns of smoke, Zakamoto's children arrive with great strides.
Let us forget the blond cherubs of past iconography, because Akira's are no ordinary children. They are giants — and not only in stature — who, with their gaze now stern, now menacing, destroy chimneys and the skeletons of factories. And, looking us straight in the face, they accuse us. It is hard to turn away to avoid their eyes, because before them we are all responsible for the environmental and social devastation we have managed to create over the course of a century. The iconographic choices the artist makes to address the theme of work are as interesting as they are unprecedented. In these painted pages, work is evoked exclusively by the buildings that housed it over a century, just as the presence of the workers is implied but never made explicit. Here too Zakamoto confirms himself as a realist painter who nonetheless deliberately disregards the canons of this kind of painting. Akira does not openly shout his denunciation of contemporary society but sublimates it and, in sublimating it, indirectly condemns it. These are works of strong and immediate visual impact, in which the dark, rough tones play a happy chromatic counterpoint with the reds of the children's shirts, which significantly recall the metal sheeting of the factories. Looking at these canvases we realise that everything is exactly in the right place; there is nothing excessive or that disturbs the eye, no superfluous descriptiveness meant only to wink at the observer and fill the space. As always, the artist knows how to balance absences and presences with wisdom, charging them with meaning. But let us now change our point of view and look at these compositions from a different angle. We realise that nothing, in fact, is entirely concluded, and that a glimmer of hope exists: the heavy, ashen skies leave room for scraps of blue that open the view onto a future that can and must be different.
Had Zakamoto not wished to grant, and to grant us, a chance of redemption, he would have let only the profiles of the industrial buildings speak. But here the true protagonists are the children who, by assumption, are the promise and the hope of the future. It is they who, mercilessly destroying the past, offer us the chance to build the foundations of a different and better tomorrow. Thus Porto Marghera is nothing but the emblem of a century that radically changed the economy and society, often trampling human rights and individual lives. The child who looks at us with a mocking smile in the work The End of Work is in truth the starting point from which to begin again. Because every end always presupposes a new beginning.
Let us forget the blond cherubs of past iconography, because Akira's are no ordinary children. They are giants — and not only in stature — who, with their gaze now stern, now menacing, destroy chimneys and the skeletons of factories. And, looking us straight in the face, they accuse us. It is hard to turn away to avoid their eyes, because before them we are all responsible for the environmental and social devastation we have managed to create over the course of a century. The iconographic choices the artist makes to address the theme of work are as interesting as they are unprecedented. In these painted pages, work is evoked exclusively by the buildings that housed it over a century, just as the presence of the workers is implied but never made explicit. Here too Zakamoto confirms himself as a realist painter who nonetheless deliberately disregards the canons of this kind of painting. Akira does not openly shout his denunciation of contemporary society but sublimates it and, in sublimating it, indirectly condemns it. These are works of strong and immediate visual impact, in which the dark, rough tones play a happy chromatic counterpoint with the reds of the children's shirts, which significantly recall the metal sheeting of the factories. Looking at these canvases we realise that everything is exactly in the right place; there is nothing excessive or that disturbs the eye, no superfluous descriptiveness meant only to wink at the observer and fill the space. As always, the artist knows how to balance absences and presences with wisdom, charging them with meaning. But let us now change our point of view and look at these compositions from a different angle. We realise that nothing, in fact, is entirely concluded, and that a glimmer of hope exists: the heavy, ashen skies leave room for scraps of blue that open the view onto a future that can and must be different.
Had Zakamoto not wished to grant, and to grant us, a chance of redemption, he would have let only the profiles of the industrial buildings speak. But here the true protagonists are the children who, by assumption, are the promise and the hope of the future. It is they who, mercilessly destroying the past, offer us the chance to build the foundations of a different and better tomorrow. Thus Porto Marghera is nothing but the emblem of a century that radically changed the economy and society, often trampling human rights and individual lives. The child who looks at us with a mocking smile in the work The End of Work is in truth the starting point from which to begin again. Because every end always presupposes a new beginning.
Akira Zakamoto. Polo industriale di Porto Marghera. àˆ emblematico lo scenario individuato dal pittore torinese per le tele realizzate per questa mostra. Una scelta non casuale – pregnante di significati profondi – che lascia ben poco spazio a dubbi interpretativi. La nascita e lo sviluppo di Porto Marghera risale al 1917, quando l'imprenditore veneziano Volpi ottenne dal ministero dei lavori pubblici la gestione finanziaria del progetto per la realizzazione del porto industriale. Nel giro di cinquant'anni la zona industriale si triplica, e da una produzione inerente la cantieristica navale diventa centro propulsore del settore petrolchimico. Il boom economico incrementa la produzione, e insieme a essa si moltiplicano i problemi relativi all'inquinamento atmosferico, delle acque lagunari e le serie e documentate conseguenze sulla salute dei lavoratori. Teatro di grandi fusioni aziendali, battaglie e contestazioni sindacali, con la crisi del settore petrolchimico Marghera inizia a ripiegarsi nuovamente su se stessa. Progressivamente le fabbriche vengono abbandonate, in attesa di un progetto di riqualificazione e bonifica della zona. Ed è proprio in questo momento che, sotto cieli plumbei saturi di inquinamento e dietro minacciose colonne di fumo, arrivano a grandi passi i bambini di Zakamoto.
Dimentichiamoci gli amorini biondi dell'iconografia del passato, perché quelli di Akira non sono bambini qualsiasi. Sono giganti, e non solo nella statura, che con il loro sguardo ora severo ora minaccioso, distruggono ciminiere e scheletri di fabbriche. E, guardandoci diritti in faccia, ci accusano. Difficile girarsi dall'altra parte per evitare i loro occhi, perché di fronte a loro siamo tutti responsabili dello scempio ambientale e sociale che nel corso di un secolo siamo riusciti a creare. Sono interessanti, quanto inedite, le modalità iconografiche scelte dall'artista per affrontare la tematica del lavoro. In queste pagine pittoriche quest'ultimo è evocato esclusivamente dagli edifici che nel corso di un secolo lo hanno ospitato, così come la presenza degli operai è sottintesa ma mai esplicitata. Anche in questo contesto Zakamoto si conferma come un pittore realista che tuttavia non rispetta volutamente i canoni di questo genere di pittura. Akira non urla apertamente la sua denuncia nei confronti della società contemporanea, ma la sublima e, sublimandola, indirettamente la condanna. Sono opere di forte e immediato impatto visivo, in cui i toni scuri e scabri giocano di felice contrappunto cromatico con i rossi delle magliette dei bambini, che richiamano significativamente le lamiere delle fabbriche. Osservando queste sue tele ci accorgiamo che tutto è esattamente al posto giusto, non c'è nulla di troppo o che disturbi la vista, nessun descrittivismo superfluo volto solo ad ammiccare l'osservatore e riempire lo spazio. Come sempre l'artista riesce a dosare con sapienza le assenze e le presenze, caricandole di significato. Ma proviamo ora a cambiare punto di vista e guardiamo queste composizioni pittoriche da un'angolazione diversa. Ci accorgiamo che nulla in realtà è completamente concluso e che esiste uno spiraglio di speranza: i cieli grevi e cinerei, lasciano spazio a scampoli di azzurro che aprono la visuale su un futuro che può e deve essere diverso.
Se Zakamoto non avesse voluto concedere, e concederci, una possibilità di riscatto, avrebbe lasciato che a parlare fossero solo i profili degli edifici industriali. Ma qui i veri protagonisti sono i bambini che, per assunto, sono la promessa e la speranza del futuro. Sono loro che distruggendo senza pietà il passato ci offrono la possibilità di costruire le fondamenta per un domani diverso e migliore. Dunque Porto Marghera altro non è che l'emblema di un secolo che ha cambiato radicalmente l'economia e la società , calpestando spesso i diritti dell'uomo e le singole individualità . Il bambino che ci guarda con un sorriso beffardo nell'opera La fine del lavoro, è in realtà il punto di partenza da cui ricominciare. Perché ogni fine presuppone sempre un nuovo inizio.
Dimentichiamoci gli amorini biondi dell'iconografia del passato, perché quelli di Akira non sono bambini qualsiasi. Sono giganti, e non solo nella statura, che con il loro sguardo ora severo ora minaccioso, distruggono ciminiere e scheletri di fabbriche. E, guardandoci diritti in faccia, ci accusano. Difficile girarsi dall'altra parte per evitare i loro occhi, perché di fronte a loro siamo tutti responsabili dello scempio ambientale e sociale che nel corso di un secolo siamo riusciti a creare. Sono interessanti, quanto inedite, le modalità iconografiche scelte dall'artista per affrontare la tematica del lavoro. In queste pagine pittoriche quest'ultimo è evocato esclusivamente dagli edifici che nel corso di un secolo lo hanno ospitato, così come la presenza degli operai è sottintesa ma mai esplicitata. Anche in questo contesto Zakamoto si conferma come un pittore realista che tuttavia non rispetta volutamente i canoni di questo genere di pittura. Akira non urla apertamente la sua denuncia nei confronti della società contemporanea, ma la sublima e, sublimandola, indirettamente la condanna. Sono opere di forte e immediato impatto visivo, in cui i toni scuri e scabri giocano di felice contrappunto cromatico con i rossi delle magliette dei bambini, che richiamano significativamente le lamiere delle fabbriche. Osservando queste sue tele ci accorgiamo che tutto è esattamente al posto giusto, non c'è nulla di troppo o che disturbi la vista, nessun descrittivismo superfluo volto solo ad ammiccare l'osservatore e riempire lo spazio. Come sempre l'artista riesce a dosare con sapienza le assenze e le presenze, caricandole di significato. Ma proviamo ora a cambiare punto di vista e guardiamo queste composizioni pittoriche da un'angolazione diversa. Ci accorgiamo che nulla in realtà è completamente concluso e che esiste uno spiraglio di speranza: i cieli grevi e cinerei, lasciano spazio a scampoli di azzurro che aprono la visuale su un futuro che può e deve essere diverso.
Se Zakamoto non avesse voluto concedere, e concederci, una possibilità di riscatto, avrebbe lasciato che a parlare fossero solo i profili degli edifici industriali. Ma qui i veri protagonisti sono i bambini che, per assunto, sono la promessa e la speranza del futuro. Sono loro che distruggendo senza pietà il passato ci offrono la possibilità di costruire le fondamenta per un domani diverso e migliore. Dunque Porto Marghera altro non è che l'emblema di un secolo che ha cambiato radicalmente l'economia e la società , calpestando spesso i diritti dell'uomo e le singole individualità . Il bambino che ci guarda con un sorriso beffardo nell'opera La fine del lavoro, è in realtà il punto di partenza da cui ricominciare. Perché ogni fine presuppone sempre un nuovo inizio.
Akira Zakamoto. The industrial hub of Porto Marghera. The setting chosen by the Turin painter for the canvases made for this exhibition is emblematic. A choice that is not casual — laden with deep meaning — leaving little room for interpretive doubt. The birth and development of Porto Marghera date back to 1917, when the Venetian entrepreneur Volpi obtained from the Ministry of Public Works the financial management of the project for building the industrial port. Within fifty years the industrial zone tripled, and from a production tied to shipbuilding it became a driving centre of the petrochemical sector. The economic boom increased production, and with it multiplied the problems of air and lagoon-water pollution and the serious, documented consequences for workers' health. A theatre of great corporate mergers, battles and union protests, with the crisis of the petrochemical sector Marghera began to fold in on itself again. Progressively the factories were abandoned, awaiting a project of requalification and reclamation of the area. And it is precisely at this moment that, under leaden skies saturated with pollution and behind menacing columns of smoke, Zakamoto's children arrive with great strides.
Let us forget the blond cherubs of past iconography, because Akira's are no ordinary children. They are giants — and not only in stature — who, with their gaze now stern, now menacing, destroy chimneys and the skeletons of factories. And, looking us straight in the face, they accuse us. It is hard to turn away to avoid their eyes, because before them we are all responsible for the environmental and social devastation we have managed to create over the course of a century. The iconographic choices the artist makes to address the theme of work are as interesting as they are unprecedented. In these painted pages, work is evoked exclusively by the buildings that housed it over a century, just as the presence of the workers is implied but never made explicit. Here too Zakamoto confirms himself as a realist painter who nonetheless deliberately disregards the canons of this kind of painting. Akira does not openly shout his denunciation of contemporary society but sublimates it and, in sublimating it, indirectly condemns it. These are works of strong and immediate visual impact, in which the dark, rough tones play a happy chromatic counterpoint with the reds of the children's shirts, which significantly recall the metal sheeting of the factories. Looking at these canvases we realise that everything is exactly in the right place; there is nothing excessive or that disturbs the eye, no superfluous descriptiveness meant only to wink at the observer and fill the space. As always, the artist knows how to balance absences and presences with wisdom, charging them with meaning. But let us now change our point of view and look at these compositions from a different angle. We realise that nothing, in fact, is entirely concluded, and that a glimmer of hope exists: the heavy, ashen skies leave room for scraps of blue that open the view onto a future that can and must be different.
Had Zakamoto not wished to grant, and to grant us, a chance of redemption, he would have let only the profiles of the industrial buildings speak. But here the true protagonists are the children who, by assumption, are the promise and the hope of the future. It is they who, mercilessly destroying the past, offer us the chance to build the foundations of a different and better tomorrow. Thus Porto Marghera is nothing but the emblem of a century that radically changed the economy and society, often trampling human rights and individual lives. The child who looks at us with a mocking smile in the work The End of Work is in truth the starting point from which to begin again. Because every end always presupposes a new beginning.
Let us forget the blond cherubs of past iconography, because Akira's are no ordinary children. They are giants — and not only in stature — who, with their gaze now stern, now menacing, destroy chimneys and the skeletons of factories. And, looking us straight in the face, they accuse us. It is hard to turn away to avoid their eyes, because before them we are all responsible for the environmental and social devastation we have managed to create over the course of a century. The iconographic choices the artist makes to address the theme of work are as interesting as they are unprecedented. In these painted pages, work is evoked exclusively by the buildings that housed it over a century, just as the presence of the workers is implied but never made explicit. Here too Zakamoto confirms himself as a realist painter who nonetheless deliberately disregards the canons of this kind of painting. Akira does not openly shout his denunciation of contemporary society but sublimates it and, in sublimating it, indirectly condemns it. These are works of strong and immediate visual impact, in which the dark, rough tones play a happy chromatic counterpoint with the reds of the children's shirts, which significantly recall the metal sheeting of the factories. Looking at these canvases we realise that everything is exactly in the right place; there is nothing excessive or that disturbs the eye, no superfluous descriptiveness meant only to wink at the observer and fill the space. As always, the artist knows how to balance absences and presences with wisdom, charging them with meaning. But let us now change our point of view and look at these compositions from a different angle. We realise that nothing, in fact, is entirely concluded, and that a glimmer of hope exists: the heavy, ashen skies leave room for scraps of blue that open the view onto a future that can and must be different.
Had Zakamoto not wished to grant, and to grant us, a chance of redemption, he would have let only the profiles of the industrial buildings speak. But here the true protagonists are the children who, by assumption, are the promise and the hope of the future. It is they who, mercilessly destroying the past, offer us the chance to build the foundations of a different and better tomorrow. Thus Porto Marghera is nothing but the emblem of a century that radically changed the economy and society, often trampling human rights and individual lives. The child who looks at us with a mocking smile in the work The End of Work is in truth the starting point from which to begin again. Because every end always presupposes a new beginning.