We have held a fluvial pose for five years, during which the people we have encountered have astonished us and led us towards an overflowing cinema. A humble cinema, even though it can suddenly flick like when the frame is called upon to awaken a film asleep in the stone or to order a second birth of the image through the same initiatory gesture. A vertebral cinema, then a regiment of bones, and then a delicate crack in the entire skeleton. A cinema that asserts the androgynous character of vision, that is always in the middle of each relation, connecting, disjoining, editing, overlaying, and getting alarmed when it perceives the flashing of the things. The latter turns our interiority into the place where all the exteriority of the world reshuffles.
These are the titles in chronological order: Every Bush a God that Burns (2016), Like the Grave of a Stone, Like the Cradle of a Star (2018), Ubi Amor Ibi Oculus (2020). These are the wanderers — like the threefold expression of the same figure: the Pilgrim, the Wizard, and the Blind Man. These are the places: Italy and Ireland, or better the incessant movement that leads from one land to the other, always “walking in the image,” as reads psalm 38 (Verutamamen in imagine pertransit homo). This is the outcome: the moment when the light fades coincides with the most shining luminosity of its noon.
We present here — thanks to the long-sightedness of Satellite and of the curator, Mauro Santini — an atlas that, even if limited, does not renounce to be an intransigent drainage of life which acts inside matter. For us, cinema starts beyond the screen every time that it manages to chip the first immediacy of reality and to make the hidden visibility of what lays around catchable, even just for an instant. What is left is a sun buried under the eyelids “which holds brightly the prehistory of the stars.”
The fact that the cinema is an invention without a future does not prevent the future of imagi- nation from manifesting itself through it. This is why we persevere in wandering.
Lucamatteo Rossi e Giorgiomaria Cornelio