VALENTINA PALMI

(...) The panoply is wide and Vale Palmi uses the most suitable instruments from time to time. With an inevitable consequence: that is, the full-bodied objectual consistency of the works slides towards crystallized dematerialization in the photographs on display.

 

The photos continue the immanent gravity of the action, fixing the performance in the memory. The boundaries between the private sphere, the artist's personal experience, are blurred and mixed with the challenge he proposes to the public, forcing the viewer to face his social paranoia typical of these hyper-digitalized years, but also to fish in his most hidden fears, which come out of buckets sometimes bottomless, sometimes full of mud or eggs full of blood.

 

It is in this context that the artist's body, dressed in red, makes its entrance on stage, in the perfection of his twenties becomes a measure of everything, of right and wrong, of good and evil, of lawful and illicit, of decent and obscene. To give a new and powerful objectivity to dormant fears.

 

Such as going to research that time when, as a child, parents said "no more" to justify the death of someone, a relative or a pet.

There is no more there is a sentence aimed at taking away the corporeity from death, to make it one of the many virtual experiences, trying to give it back depth through the throwing of eggs full of blood on the ground, like a head that shatters and as if the repetition of the gesture, cadenced by the metallic voice of Siri who obsessively repeats the phrase that gives the title to the work, was a catharsis in desperate search for the reworking of the trauma of mourning. (...)