The Pop-Political Akira Zakamoto
In these canvases Gundam, Actarus, Devilman and Goldrake come back to life. Warriors and heroes, elected supreme avengers in a painting of images that are anything but sentimental — rather, all the more evocative and meaningful. They are images that convey unequivocal messages, often ironic, sometimes surreal, through a universal language that appeals to memories of cartoons still alive in the viewer's mind.
In his depiction of the warrior-hero, he falls under the spell of the heroic phases of dictatorships. Looking at "Cold War" and "Jeeg," one cannot help thinking of Nazi propaganda posters, of the solemnity of Mao Tse-tung's portrait poses ("In Gold We Trust"), or of Uncle Sam's famous call to arms addressed to young Americans. Zakamoto's pop-political work investigates the relationship between message and object in paintings that look like advertisements. The mystification of the everyday turns into a condemnation of economic values, of pop culture itself and its lies (above all "Actarus7Up" and "Putsch," which destroys a plausible Palazzo Montecitorio), as if the artist were driven by a duty to recount his time, unable to restrain his sharp critique of the contemporary world.
Akira Zakamoto's is a world of strong contrasts and hyperboles, reflecting on life through the metaphors of play and childhood. It is a choice loaded with meaning, for the futuristic and fantastic images he creates are a sublimation of the perpetual cycle of creation and destruction.
His works often depict children — little men — of gigantic size who play with ruthless seriousness or loom over urban settings reduced to toy-like scenes that foreshadow apocalyptic scenarios. In Zakamoto's vision, however, the apocalypse has a positive connotation, for it represents the starting point of a new world: in the game of life we create the future by destroying the past.
These works are a reminder that the future belongs to children: they will take up the baton, shouldering the legacy of their predecessors — they are the hope of the world. Children are nothing but little people who must experience the world, and their greatness is proportional to their potential: purity, wonder, tenacity, joy, recklessness, cruelty — which fade in intensity as we grow, but in a child keep intact their explosive power to subvert the rules, overturn everything, destroy and begin again.
The large format of the canvases becomes an amplified vehicle for the message within the images; it is a projection of the importance we should give to considering them, but also of the power they hold, while the lowered or raised vanishing point invites us to take a different perspective.
The realism of Zakamoto's painting, in which the American figurative lesson of Alex Katz coexists with the Pop of Takashi Murakami, transcribes from the cinematic dimension an expressive immediacy, perfectly delineating bodies and objects; even a simple toy becomes a monumental icon of contemporary culture and society. This verisimilitude shakes consciences, offering a privileged lens through which to perceive the world and hope for a better future.
In his depiction of the warrior-hero, he falls under the spell of the heroic phases of dictatorships. Looking at "Cold War" and "Jeeg," one cannot help thinking of Nazi propaganda posters, of the solemnity of Mao Tse-tung's portrait poses ("In Gold We Trust"), or of Uncle Sam's famous call to arms addressed to young Americans. Zakamoto's pop-political work investigates the relationship between message and object in paintings that look like advertisements. The mystification of the everyday turns into a condemnation of economic values, of pop culture itself and its lies (above all "Actarus7Up" and "Putsch," which destroys a plausible Palazzo Montecitorio), as if the artist were driven by a duty to recount his time, unable to restrain his sharp critique of the contemporary world.
Akira Zakamoto's is a world of strong contrasts and hyperboles, reflecting on life through the metaphors of play and childhood. It is a choice loaded with meaning, for the futuristic and fantastic images he creates are a sublimation of the perpetual cycle of creation and destruction.
His works often depict children — little men — of gigantic size who play with ruthless seriousness or loom over urban settings reduced to toy-like scenes that foreshadow apocalyptic scenarios. In Zakamoto's vision, however, the apocalypse has a positive connotation, for it represents the starting point of a new world: in the game of life we create the future by destroying the past.
These works are a reminder that the future belongs to children: they will take up the baton, shouldering the legacy of their predecessors — they are the hope of the world. Children are nothing but little people who must experience the world, and their greatness is proportional to their potential: purity, wonder, tenacity, joy, recklessness, cruelty — which fade in intensity as we grow, but in a child keep intact their explosive power to subvert the rules, overturn everything, destroy and begin again.
The large format of the canvases becomes an amplified vehicle for the message within the images; it is a projection of the importance we should give to considering them, but also of the power they hold, while the lowered or raised vanishing point invites us to take a different perspective.
The realism of Zakamoto's painting, in which the American figurative lesson of Alex Katz coexists with the Pop of Takashi Murakami, transcribes from the cinematic dimension an expressive immediacy, perfectly delineating bodies and objects; even a simple toy becomes a monumental icon of contemporary culture and society. This verisimilitude shakes consciences, offering a privileged lens through which to perceive the world and hope for a better future.
In queste tele rivivono Gundam, Actarus, Devilman e Goldrake. Guerrieri ed eroi, eletti a giustizieri supremi nella pittura di immagini tutt'altro che sentimentali, quanto più evocative e significative. Sono immagini che trasmettono messaggi inequivocabili, spesso ironici, talvolta surreali, attraverso un linguaggio universale che si appella ai ricordi dei cartoni animati, ancora oggi presenti nella memoria di chi guarda.
Nella raffigurazione del guerriero-eroe, subisce il fascino delle fasi eroiche delle dittature. Osservando "Cold war" e "Jeeg", infatti, non si può fare a meno di pensare ai manifesti di propaganda nazista, alla solennità delle pose ritrattistiche di Mao Tse-tung ("In gold we trust"), o alla celeberrima chiamata alle armi dello Zio Sam rivolta ai giovani americani. Il pop-politico di Zakamoto indaga il rapporto tra messaggio e oggetto in dipinti che sembrano réclame pubblicitarie. La mistificazione del quotidiano si rivolta nella condanna dei valori economici, della stessa cultura pop e delle sue menzogne (sopra tutti "Actarus7up" e "Putsch" che distrugge un verosimile Palazzo Montecitorio), come se l'artista fosse mosso dal dovere di raccontare il suo tempo, senza riuscire a tenere a freno l'aspra critica alla contemporaneità .
Quello di Akira Zakamoto è un mondo di forti contrasti e di iperboli, che ragiona sulla vita attraverso le metafore del gioco e dell'infanzia. àˆ una scelta carica di significati, poiché le immagini futuribili e fantastiche che realizza sono una sublimazione del perpetuo ciclo di creazione e distruzione.
I suoi lavori spesso raffigurano bambini – piccoli uomini – di dimensioni gigantesche che giocano con spietata serietà o campeggiano su scenari urbani ridotti ad ambientazioni giocattolo che fanno presagire scenari apocalittici. L'apocalisse, nella visione di Akira Zakamoto, ha, però, una connotazione positiva, poiché rappresenta il punto di inizio di un nuovo mondo: nel gioco della vita creiamo il futuro, distruggendo il passato.
Queste opere sono un monito a ricordarsi che il futuro appartiene ai bambini, loro raccoglieranno il testimone facendosi carico del lascito dei loro predecessori, sono la speranza del mondo. I bambini non sono altro che piccoli uomini che devono fare esperienza del mondo e la loro grandezza è proporzionata al loro potenziale: la purezza, lo stupore, la tenacia, la gioia, l'incoscienza, la crudeltà , che crescendo si smorzano di intensità , in un bambino conservano intatta la loro forza dirompente di sovvertire le regole, stravolgere tutto, distruggere e ricominciare.
Il grande formato delle tele si fa veicolo amplificato del messaggio insito nelle immagini, è proiezione dell'importanza che dovremmo porre nel considerarli, ma anche del potere che possiedono, mentre il punto di fuoco abbassato o rialzato ci invita a porci in una diversa prospettiva.
Il realismo della pittura di Zakamoto, in cui convivono la lezione figurativa americana di Alex Kats con quella Pop di Takashi Murakami, trascrive dalla dimensione cinematografica l'immediatezza espressiva delineando perfettamente corpi e oggetti, anche un semplice giocattolo si trasforma in un'icona monumentale della cultura e della società contemporanea. Questa verosimiglianza scuote le coscienze offrendo una lente privilegiata attraverso la quale percepire il mondo e auspicare un avvenire migliore.
Nella raffigurazione del guerriero-eroe, subisce il fascino delle fasi eroiche delle dittature. Osservando "Cold war" e "Jeeg", infatti, non si può fare a meno di pensare ai manifesti di propaganda nazista, alla solennità delle pose ritrattistiche di Mao Tse-tung ("In gold we trust"), o alla celeberrima chiamata alle armi dello Zio Sam rivolta ai giovani americani. Il pop-politico di Zakamoto indaga il rapporto tra messaggio e oggetto in dipinti che sembrano réclame pubblicitarie. La mistificazione del quotidiano si rivolta nella condanna dei valori economici, della stessa cultura pop e delle sue menzogne (sopra tutti "Actarus7up" e "Putsch" che distrugge un verosimile Palazzo Montecitorio), come se l'artista fosse mosso dal dovere di raccontare il suo tempo, senza riuscire a tenere a freno l'aspra critica alla contemporaneità .
Quello di Akira Zakamoto è un mondo di forti contrasti e di iperboli, che ragiona sulla vita attraverso le metafore del gioco e dell'infanzia. àˆ una scelta carica di significati, poiché le immagini futuribili e fantastiche che realizza sono una sublimazione del perpetuo ciclo di creazione e distruzione.
I suoi lavori spesso raffigurano bambini – piccoli uomini – di dimensioni gigantesche che giocano con spietata serietà o campeggiano su scenari urbani ridotti ad ambientazioni giocattolo che fanno presagire scenari apocalittici. L'apocalisse, nella visione di Akira Zakamoto, ha, però, una connotazione positiva, poiché rappresenta il punto di inizio di un nuovo mondo: nel gioco della vita creiamo il futuro, distruggendo il passato.
Queste opere sono un monito a ricordarsi che il futuro appartiene ai bambini, loro raccoglieranno il testimone facendosi carico del lascito dei loro predecessori, sono la speranza del mondo. I bambini non sono altro che piccoli uomini che devono fare esperienza del mondo e la loro grandezza è proporzionata al loro potenziale: la purezza, lo stupore, la tenacia, la gioia, l'incoscienza, la crudeltà , che crescendo si smorzano di intensità , in un bambino conservano intatta la loro forza dirompente di sovvertire le regole, stravolgere tutto, distruggere e ricominciare.
Il grande formato delle tele si fa veicolo amplificato del messaggio insito nelle immagini, è proiezione dell'importanza che dovremmo porre nel considerarli, ma anche del potere che possiedono, mentre il punto di fuoco abbassato o rialzato ci invita a porci in una diversa prospettiva.
Il realismo della pittura di Zakamoto, in cui convivono la lezione figurativa americana di Alex Kats con quella Pop di Takashi Murakami, trascrive dalla dimensione cinematografica l'immediatezza espressiva delineando perfettamente corpi e oggetti, anche un semplice giocattolo si trasforma in un'icona monumentale della cultura e della società contemporanea. Questa verosimiglianza scuote le coscienze offrendo una lente privilegiata attraverso la quale percepire il mondo e auspicare un avvenire migliore.
In these canvases Gundam, Actarus, Devilman and Goldrake come back to life. Warriors and heroes, elected supreme avengers in a painting of images that are anything but sentimental — rather, all the more evocative and meaningful. They are images that convey unequivocal messages, often ironic, sometimes surreal, through a universal language that appeals to memories of cartoons still alive in the viewer's mind.
In his depiction of the warrior-hero, he falls under the spell of the heroic phases of dictatorships. Looking at "Cold War" and "Jeeg," one cannot help thinking of Nazi propaganda posters, of the solemnity of Mao Tse-tung's portrait poses ("In Gold We Trust"), or of Uncle Sam's famous call to arms addressed to young Americans. Zakamoto's pop-political work investigates the relationship between message and object in paintings that look like advertisements. The mystification of the everyday turns into a condemnation of economic values, of pop culture itself and its lies (above all "Actarus7Up" and "Putsch," which destroys a plausible Palazzo Montecitorio), as if the artist were driven by a duty to recount his time, unable to restrain his sharp critique of the contemporary world.
Akira Zakamoto's is a world of strong contrasts and hyperboles, reflecting on life through the metaphors of play and childhood. It is a choice loaded with meaning, for the futuristic and fantastic images he creates are a sublimation of the perpetual cycle of creation and destruction.
His works often depict children — little men — of gigantic size who play with ruthless seriousness or loom over urban settings reduced to toy-like scenes that foreshadow apocalyptic scenarios. In Zakamoto's vision, however, the apocalypse has a positive connotation, for it represents the starting point of a new world: in the game of life we create the future by destroying the past.
These works are a reminder that the future belongs to children: they will take up the baton, shouldering the legacy of their predecessors — they are the hope of the world. Children are nothing but little people who must experience the world, and their greatness is proportional to their potential: purity, wonder, tenacity, joy, recklessness, cruelty — which fade in intensity as we grow, but in a child keep intact their explosive power to subvert the rules, overturn everything, destroy and begin again.
The large format of the canvases becomes an amplified vehicle for the message within the images; it is a projection of the importance we should give to considering them, but also of the power they hold, while the lowered or raised vanishing point invites us to take a different perspective.
The realism of Zakamoto's painting, in which the American figurative lesson of Alex Katz coexists with the Pop of Takashi Murakami, transcribes from the cinematic dimension an expressive immediacy, perfectly delineating bodies and objects; even a simple toy becomes a monumental icon of contemporary culture and society. This verisimilitude shakes consciences, offering a privileged lens through which to perceive the world and hope for a better future.
In his depiction of the warrior-hero, he falls under the spell of the heroic phases of dictatorships. Looking at "Cold War" and "Jeeg," one cannot help thinking of Nazi propaganda posters, of the solemnity of Mao Tse-tung's portrait poses ("In Gold We Trust"), or of Uncle Sam's famous call to arms addressed to young Americans. Zakamoto's pop-political work investigates the relationship between message and object in paintings that look like advertisements. The mystification of the everyday turns into a condemnation of economic values, of pop culture itself and its lies (above all "Actarus7Up" and "Putsch," which destroys a plausible Palazzo Montecitorio), as if the artist were driven by a duty to recount his time, unable to restrain his sharp critique of the contemporary world.
Akira Zakamoto's is a world of strong contrasts and hyperboles, reflecting on life through the metaphors of play and childhood. It is a choice loaded with meaning, for the futuristic and fantastic images he creates are a sublimation of the perpetual cycle of creation and destruction.
His works often depict children — little men — of gigantic size who play with ruthless seriousness or loom over urban settings reduced to toy-like scenes that foreshadow apocalyptic scenarios. In Zakamoto's vision, however, the apocalypse has a positive connotation, for it represents the starting point of a new world: in the game of life we create the future by destroying the past.
These works are a reminder that the future belongs to children: they will take up the baton, shouldering the legacy of their predecessors — they are the hope of the world. Children are nothing but little people who must experience the world, and their greatness is proportional to their potential: purity, wonder, tenacity, joy, recklessness, cruelty — which fade in intensity as we grow, but in a child keep intact their explosive power to subvert the rules, overturn everything, destroy and begin again.
The large format of the canvases becomes an amplified vehicle for the message within the images; it is a projection of the importance we should give to considering them, but also of the power they hold, while the lowered or raised vanishing point invites us to take a different perspective.
The realism of Zakamoto's painting, in which the American figurative lesson of Alex Katz coexists with the Pop of Takashi Murakami, transcribes from the cinematic dimension an expressive immediacy, perfectly delineating bodies and objects; even a simple toy becomes a monumental icon of contemporary culture and society. This verisimilitude shakes consciences, offering a privileged lens through which to perceive the world and hope for a better future.