Edition of 100
6 € BUY
Condylura publishes a free digital copy at sold-out
An old album containing photos of a trip to the United States, found by the artist in the attic of his childhood home. The protagonist is a seven-year-old boy, caught up in the heat of the mechanical eye that shields him from giants parading in front of him. Scrolling through the pages, one encounters Egyptian sarcophagi, stuffed animals and various skeletons spanning the depths of terrestrial life, from the T-rex to the reptile, all the way to the joke between two tusks that seem to flash their ass and the monkeys laughing in our faces. But also strange hotel interiors decorated in Medieval style, a giant toy robot, and a terrible sunset, reflected in the skyscrapers facing the destruction site of Ground Zero.
Yet, these pictures have too many correspondences with Paolo Bufalini’s artistic practice: it is tempting to speak of a distant attraction for animal and technological otherness, but their resurface disturbes a linear cause-effect narrative, opening to a plot of temporal paradoxes. A weird tale in still-images, with time travels that rewrite the consequentiality of events. Among the many eyes, one may also count the redwood section, an enormous pupil, plunging its roots in the abyss of time. It may be a wormhole, with a young argonaut posing in front of it, ready to see what will always have already been.