Exhibition “The loss of sense of …”
“The loss of sense of …”
In the context of the Twelfth Day of Contemporary, Residenza le Rose Villa d’Arte joins at the event with a second edition of the “Situation of Contemporary Art” featuring an exhibition with installation, photography and video, entitled “The loss of sense of… ”, by narrative artist Raymond la Motte.
The theme of the exhibition is the result of the present state of things, our present is martyred by intolerance and injustice, while the social space is increasingly controlled and reticular. The historical period in which we live is marked by the loss of the sense of humanity, and here art can give a critical voice to the tragedies that destroy entire generations and territories.
While being aware that art alone can not change the world, the artist can state their dissent with free expression against any form of destruction and violence through artistic practice.
This exhibition will take the unusual length of a day, involving an artistic production of synthesis that includes videos, photography, installations, and whose languages are intertwined … from reality to abstraction of reality. The day will be characterized by opening to the public of Residenza le Rose’s spaces, thus giving the opportunity to approach even more people to contemporary art and social issues.
Cica Hay, painter
Raymond La Motte is an Artist, hidden, like many artists of the sensitivity than skin deep. He is flesh and blood, deeply pervaded by the pain of living, from the atrocities of what surrounds us. A video artist technically bravissimo, which, with its images and sounds makes squeaking and vibrating the strings of soul, already strained to the utmost. No half measures, without compassion, without pretense and for this reason all the more effective to wake the dead or addicted bodies to horror of every day. In his work, what it seems almost trivial is rather mathematical study, the algorithmic result of signs and colors, a kind of Morse code for the future …
Ilaria D’Atri, photographer
Posillipo, interior day. The silence spreads in small sonorous thunders. Croaks, it breaks down into frames. The screen is a monochrome puddle. Recalls to mind emotions glimpsed out of the corner of his eye. Withheld for the moment that your heart can withstand. As of enchantment bright crystals of the screens return the matter. Powder, plastic, water. Decompositions of the ego. The story of a society to rust flavor and regret. armed struggle of bodies. Men and women chase each other, they grab without touching. They exchange the flesh of which are made. They cancel out. They are summed up in metropolitan figures. I look, my hand is interposed between the lens and the work. I carryover in photography that more sincere my body asks: