Dark Frontier
Painting has been full of "children" since the dawn of time. One need only turn toward history to recall the masterpieces of Michelangelo, Botticelli, Donatello, Masaccio, Giotto, Piero della Francesca, Bellini. Each of them has a work titled Madonna and Child to their name, and from every one of these works emerges a talent, a technique, a craft, a sensibility for painting as the height of cultural expression — simply unreachable for most. The theme tackled by Luca Motolese, known as Akira Zakamoto (born 1974), is one we have seen before.
It is a theme visually addressed by the painting of the last 800 years, and this skilled Turin painter will struggle to add to it further, precisely because of the giants with whom history forces him to measure up. He has a fine hand; he certainly knows how to paint. The echoes of Wesselmann's showy, vivid palette are even interesting in some canvases. His works certainly have a decorative quality that does not disturb but rather satisfies; yet the names mentioned above leave him no escape in the territory he has set out to explore. He will never, even from afar, compete with that mysterious child Claude Monet paints beside his Woman with a Parasol — and perhaps the beauty of Zakamoto is that he has no such pretension. His work is much simpler than that. It sets itself far more earthly aims: it simply wants to represent, in a time we shall call "the dark frontier," the recovery of that joy — childish, if you like, but also blessed — that now dwells only in carefree childhood.
In the dark frontier, in our time, being happy with what we have, accepting it and fully enjoying it each day, has become an abstract concept — more so than a Kandinsky painting, which, I believe, he would not have been proud of at all. To dream, to weep, simply to be ourselves, to be enchanted by the things of life, even the small ones, has become a weakness, unless we give these components of humanity an aspect that justifies them: the face of a child.
This is not about Peter Pan syndrome (who, moreover, was not a good child at all); it is not about refusing to grow up in order to flee the responsibilities life brings as we age. An entire generation is afflicted by Peter Pan syndrome — the thirty-somethings, who possess everything and at the same time nothing, incapable of taking on responsibility of any kind, of upholding the most basic values, of growing up outside the bell jar, of relationships unless lived through the filters of digital technology, of setting themselves priorities or rules worth respecting. Children of a revolution right in its motives, wrong and destructive in its results. Children of Hemingway and his maxims, the true origin of the bit generation (deliberately lowercase). Of this way of thinking the dark frontier is both mother and ideal cradle. But Zakamoto's paintings, fortunately, are not part of it. On the contrary, they photograph a hope that matures from the very start of the "journey," in the education we give to those who will come after us. They record the desire to rediscover certain values through the subjects to whom they are passed on. One is the family that begets children, passes on values, teaches them to grow and become men and women able to exist and shine in the future without fear of living — knowing that to live is also a commitment, not only a privilege.
Knowing too that Hemingway certainly wrote very well but understood nothing at all about morality! Children who generate the world to come and will shape it in their own image, based on what they are taught today. The dark frontier's days are numbered… Let us hope you are right, Zak.
It is a theme visually addressed by the painting of the last 800 years, and this skilled Turin painter will struggle to add to it further, precisely because of the giants with whom history forces him to measure up. He has a fine hand; he certainly knows how to paint. The echoes of Wesselmann's showy, vivid palette are even interesting in some canvases. His works certainly have a decorative quality that does not disturb but rather satisfies; yet the names mentioned above leave him no escape in the territory he has set out to explore. He will never, even from afar, compete with that mysterious child Claude Monet paints beside his Woman with a Parasol — and perhaps the beauty of Zakamoto is that he has no such pretension. His work is much simpler than that. It sets itself far more earthly aims: it simply wants to represent, in a time we shall call "the dark frontier," the recovery of that joy — childish, if you like, but also blessed — that now dwells only in carefree childhood.
In the dark frontier, in our time, being happy with what we have, accepting it and fully enjoying it each day, has become an abstract concept — more so than a Kandinsky painting, which, I believe, he would not have been proud of at all. To dream, to weep, simply to be ourselves, to be enchanted by the things of life, even the small ones, has become a weakness, unless we give these components of humanity an aspect that justifies them: the face of a child.
This is not about Peter Pan syndrome (who, moreover, was not a good child at all); it is not about refusing to grow up in order to flee the responsibilities life brings as we age. An entire generation is afflicted by Peter Pan syndrome — the thirty-somethings, who possess everything and at the same time nothing, incapable of taking on responsibility of any kind, of upholding the most basic values, of growing up outside the bell jar, of relationships unless lived through the filters of digital technology, of setting themselves priorities or rules worth respecting. Children of a revolution right in its motives, wrong and destructive in its results. Children of Hemingway and his maxims, the true origin of the bit generation (deliberately lowercase). Of this way of thinking the dark frontier is both mother and ideal cradle. But Zakamoto's paintings, fortunately, are not part of it. On the contrary, they photograph a hope that matures from the very start of the "journey," in the education we give to those who will come after us. They record the desire to rediscover certain values through the subjects to whom they are passed on. One is the family that begets children, passes on values, teaches them to grow and become men and women able to exist and shine in the future without fear of living — knowing that to live is also a commitment, not only a privilege.
Knowing too that Hemingway certainly wrote very well but understood nothing at all about morality! Children who generate the world to come and will shape it in their own image, based on what they are taught today. The dark frontier's days are numbered… Let us hope you are right, Zak.
La pittura è piena di "bambini" dalla notte dei tempi. Basta voltare il capo verso la storia per ricordare i capolavori di Michelangelo, Botticelli, Donatello, Masaccio, Giotto, Piero Della Francesca, Bellini. Tutti loro hanno in curriculum un'opera dal titolo: Madonna col bambino e da ciascuna di queste opere emerge un talento, una tecnica, un mestiere, una sensibilità per la pittura intesa come eccellenza dell'espressione culturale, semplicemente irraggiungibili per i più. E' un tema già visto quello che affronta Luca Motolese in arte Akira Zakamoto, classe 1974.
E' un tema affrontato, visivamente, dalla pittura degli ultimi 800 anni e questo bravo pittore torinese farà una gran fatica ad implementarlo ulteriormente proprio in virtù dei colossi con i quali, la storia, impone lui di confrontarsi. Ha una bella mano, sa certamente dipingere. I richiami alla paletta vistosa e accesa di Wesselmann sono persino interessanti, in alcune tele. I suoi lavori hanno certamente un ché di decorativo che non disturba, anzi soddisfa ma, i nomi precedentemente citati non lasciano lui alcuno scampo nel territorio che si è prefisso di esplorare. Non potrà mai, neanche da lontano, competere con quel misterioso fanciullo che Claude Monet dipinge al fianco della sua Donna con il parasole e, forse, il bello di Zakamoto è non averne alcuna pretesa. Il suo lavoro è molto più semplice di così. Si prefigge scopi molto più terreni, vuole semplicemente rappresentare, in un tempo che chiameremo "la frontiera oscura", il recupero di quella gioia, infantile se vogliamo ma pure benedetta, che alberga ormai nella sola spensierata fanciullezza.
Nella frontiera oscura, nel nostro tempo, essere felici di ciò che abbiamo, accettarlo e goderlo a pieno ogni giorno, è divenuto un concetto astratto, più di un dipinto di Kandinskij il quale, credo, non ne sarebbe stato affatto fiero. Sognare, piangere, essere semplicemente noi stessi, affascinarci delle cose della vita, anche di quelle piccole, è divenuta una debolezza a meno di non dare a questi componenti dell'umanità un aspetto che li giustifichi: il volto di un bambino.
Non si parla affatto di sindrome di Peter Pan (che per altro non era affatto un bravo bambino), non si parla affatto di non crescere per scappare dalle responsabilità che la vita ci propone crescendo. Dalla sindrome di Peter Pan è afflitta una generazione intera, quella dei trentenni e delle trentenni, in possesso di tutto e allo stesso tempo di nulla, incapaci di assumersi responsabilità di qualsiasi natura, incapaci di confrontarsi con il rispetto dei valori più basilari, incapaci di crescere fuori dalla campana di vetro, incapaci di rapporti se non vissuti attraverso i filtri delle tecnologie telematiche, incapaci di darsi delle priorità , delle regole che valga la pena di rispettare. Figli di una rivoluzione giusta nei motivi, sbagliata e distruttiva nei risultati. Figli di Hemingway e delle sue massime, origine vera della bit generation (volutamente minuscola nelle iniziali): . Di questo modo di pensare la frontiera oscura è madre e allo stesso tempo culla ideale. Ma i quadri di Zakamoto non ne fanno parte, per fortuna. Anzi, fotografano una speranza che matura sin dall'inizio del "percorso", nell'educazione che diamo a chi verrà dopo di noi. Registrano il desiderio di ritrovare alcuni valori attraverso i soggetti ai quali trasferirli. Uno è quello della famiglia che genera figli, trasferisce loro dei valori, insegna loro a crescere e diventare uomini e donne capaci di esistere e risplendere nel futuro senza paura di vivere pur sapendo che vivere è anche un impegno, non solo un privilegio.
Pur sapendo che Hemingway scriveva certamente molto bene ma, che della morale non aveva davvero capito niente! Bambini che generano il mondo che verrà e lo formeranno a loro immagine e somiglianza sulla base di quello che viene loro insegnato oggi. La frontiera oscura ha i minuti contati.. Speriamo tu abbia ragione Zak.
E' un tema affrontato, visivamente, dalla pittura degli ultimi 800 anni e questo bravo pittore torinese farà una gran fatica ad implementarlo ulteriormente proprio in virtù dei colossi con i quali, la storia, impone lui di confrontarsi. Ha una bella mano, sa certamente dipingere. I richiami alla paletta vistosa e accesa di Wesselmann sono persino interessanti, in alcune tele. I suoi lavori hanno certamente un ché di decorativo che non disturba, anzi soddisfa ma, i nomi precedentemente citati non lasciano lui alcuno scampo nel territorio che si è prefisso di esplorare. Non potrà mai, neanche da lontano, competere con quel misterioso fanciullo che Claude Monet dipinge al fianco della sua Donna con il parasole e, forse, il bello di Zakamoto è non averne alcuna pretesa. Il suo lavoro è molto più semplice di così. Si prefigge scopi molto più terreni, vuole semplicemente rappresentare, in un tempo che chiameremo "la frontiera oscura", il recupero di quella gioia, infantile se vogliamo ma pure benedetta, che alberga ormai nella sola spensierata fanciullezza.
Nella frontiera oscura, nel nostro tempo, essere felici di ciò che abbiamo, accettarlo e goderlo a pieno ogni giorno, è divenuto un concetto astratto, più di un dipinto di Kandinskij il quale, credo, non ne sarebbe stato affatto fiero. Sognare, piangere, essere semplicemente noi stessi, affascinarci delle cose della vita, anche di quelle piccole, è divenuta una debolezza a meno di non dare a questi componenti dell'umanità un aspetto che li giustifichi: il volto di un bambino.
Non si parla affatto di sindrome di Peter Pan (che per altro non era affatto un bravo bambino), non si parla affatto di non crescere per scappare dalle responsabilità che la vita ci propone crescendo. Dalla sindrome di Peter Pan è afflitta una generazione intera, quella dei trentenni e delle trentenni, in possesso di tutto e allo stesso tempo di nulla, incapaci di assumersi responsabilità di qualsiasi natura, incapaci di confrontarsi con il rispetto dei valori più basilari, incapaci di crescere fuori dalla campana di vetro, incapaci di rapporti se non vissuti attraverso i filtri delle tecnologie telematiche, incapaci di darsi delle priorità , delle regole che valga la pena di rispettare. Figli di una rivoluzione giusta nei motivi, sbagliata e distruttiva nei risultati. Figli di Hemingway e delle sue massime, origine vera della bit generation (volutamente minuscola nelle iniziali): . Di questo modo di pensare la frontiera oscura è madre e allo stesso tempo culla ideale. Ma i quadri di Zakamoto non ne fanno parte, per fortuna. Anzi, fotografano una speranza che matura sin dall'inizio del "percorso", nell'educazione che diamo a chi verrà dopo di noi. Registrano il desiderio di ritrovare alcuni valori attraverso i soggetti ai quali trasferirli. Uno è quello della famiglia che genera figli, trasferisce loro dei valori, insegna loro a crescere e diventare uomini e donne capaci di esistere e risplendere nel futuro senza paura di vivere pur sapendo che vivere è anche un impegno, non solo un privilegio.
Pur sapendo che Hemingway scriveva certamente molto bene ma, che della morale non aveva davvero capito niente! Bambini che generano il mondo che verrà e lo formeranno a loro immagine e somiglianza sulla base di quello che viene loro insegnato oggi. La frontiera oscura ha i minuti contati.. Speriamo tu abbia ragione Zak.
Painting has been full of "children" since the dawn of time. One need only turn toward history to recall the masterpieces of Michelangelo, Botticelli, Donatello, Masaccio, Giotto, Piero della Francesca, Bellini. Each of them has a work titled Madonna and Child to their name, and from every one of these works emerges a talent, a technique, a craft, a sensibility for painting as the height of cultural expression — simply unreachable for most. The theme tackled by Luca Motolese, known as Akira Zakamoto (born 1974), is one we have seen before.
It is a theme visually addressed by the painting of the last 800 years, and this skilled Turin painter will struggle to add to it further, precisely because of the giants with whom history forces him to measure up. He has a fine hand; he certainly knows how to paint. The echoes of Wesselmann's showy, vivid palette are even interesting in some canvases. His works certainly have a decorative quality that does not disturb but rather satisfies; yet the names mentioned above leave him no escape in the territory he has set out to explore. He will never, even from afar, compete with that mysterious child Claude Monet paints beside his Woman with a Parasol — and perhaps the beauty of Zakamoto is that he has no such pretension. His work is much simpler than that. It sets itself far more earthly aims: it simply wants to represent, in a time we shall call "the dark frontier," the recovery of that joy — childish, if you like, but also blessed — that now dwells only in carefree childhood.
In the dark frontier, in our time, being happy with what we have, accepting it and fully enjoying it each day, has become an abstract concept — more so than a Kandinsky painting, which, I believe, he would not have been proud of at all. To dream, to weep, simply to be ourselves, to be enchanted by the things of life, even the small ones, has become a weakness, unless we give these components of humanity an aspect that justifies them: the face of a child.
This is not about Peter Pan syndrome (who, moreover, was not a good child at all); it is not about refusing to grow up in order to flee the responsibilities life brings as we age. An entire generation is afflicted by Peter Pan syndrome — the thirty-somethings, who possess everything and at the same time nothing, incapable of taking on responsibility of any kind, of upholding the most basic values, of growing up outside the bell jar, of relationships unless lived through the filters of digital technology, of setting themselves priorities or rules worth respecting. Children of a revolution right in its motives, wrong and destructive in its results. Children of Hemingway and his maxims, the true origin of the bit generation (deliberately lowercase). Of this way of thinking the dark frontier is both mother and ideal cradle. But Zakamoto's paintings, fortunately, are not part of it. On the contrary, they photograph a hope that matures from the very start of the "journey," in the education we give to those who will come after us. They record the desire to rediscover certain values through the subjects to whom they are passed on. One is the family that begets children, passes on values, teaches them to grow and become men and women able to exist and shine in the future without fear of living — knowing that to live is also a commitment, not only a privilege.
Knowing too that Hemingway certainly wrote very well but understood nothing at all about morality! Children who generate the world to come and will shape it in their own image, based on what they are taught today. The dark frontier's days are numbered… Let us hope you are right, Zak.
It is a theme visually addressed by the painting of the last 800 years, and this skilled Turin painter will struggle to add to it further, precisely because of the giants with whom history forces him to measure up. He has a fine hand; he certainly knows how to paint. The echoes of Wesselmann's showy, vivid palette are even interesting in some canvases. His works certainly have a decorative quality that does not disturb but rather satisfies; yet the names mentioned above leave him no escape in the territory he has set out to explore. He will never, even from afar, compete with that mysterious child Claude Monet paints beside his Woman with a Parasol — and perhaps the beauty of Zakamoto is that he has no such pretension. His work is much simpler than that. It sets itself far more earthly aims: it simply wants to represent, in a time we shall call "the dark frontier," the recovery of that joy — childish, if you like, but also blessed — that now dwells only in carefree childhood.
In the dark frontier, in our time, being happy with what we have, accepting it and fully enjoying it each day, has become an abstract concept — more so than a Kandinsky painting, which, I believe, he would not have been proud of at all. To dream, to weep, simply to be ourselves, to be enchanted by the things of life, even the small ones, has become a weakness, unless we give these components of humanity an aspect that justifies them: the face of a child.
This is not about Peter Pan syndrome (who, moreover, was not a good child at all); it is not about refusing to grow up in order to flee the responsibilities life brings as we age. An entire generation is afflicted by Peter Pan syndrome — the thirty-somethings, who possess everything and at the same time nothing, incapable of taking on responsibility of any kind, of upholding the most basic values, of growing up outside the bell jar, of relationships unless lived through the filters of digital technology, of setting themselves priorities or rules worth respecting. Children of a revolution right in its motives, wrong and destructive in its results. Children of Hemingway and his maxims, the true origin of the bit generation (deliberately lowercase). Of this way of thinking the dark frontier is both mother and ideal cradle. But Zakamoto's paintings, fortunately, are not part of it. On the contrary, they photograph a hope that matures from the very start of the "journey," in the education we give to those who will come after us. They record the desire to rediscover certain values through the subjects to whom they are passed on. One is the family that begets children, passes on values, teaches them to grow and become men and women able to exist and shine in the future without fear of living — knowing that to live is also a commitment, not only a privilege.
Knowing too that Hemingway certainly wrote very well but understood nothing at all about morality! Children who generate the world to come and will shape it in their own image, based on what they are taught today. The dark frontier's days are numbered… Let us hope you are right, Zak.