The failure of the dreams and the air of tired Leroy - art critic Alessandra Giacinti The Hyacinth is a young city planner of painting. His paintings are but broken in the culture of the city that we live every day, walking the streets of a metropolis that can only give solitude and great disappointments of love.
These mannequins are small resting on the road, do not walk but remain suspended in air too heavy to be inhaled through. It's the air of abandonment, of the mercy that no one has the courage to give yourself a long heartbreaking truth that is not going to show. So these people walk, that perhaps men are, perhaps they are simply our dreams, are often forgotten and never recovered in that way that man does live in a city that constantly forgets.
The few white men remind me so much of Pulcinella, slightly inflated by the wind of the streets, who wander as spreaders of urban daily life now forcibly metabolized. The city is clearly of these characters, as in a pool of De Chirico, where the water becomes an element of tension, a quicksand that paralyzes. So do not walk the streets of Hyacinths his characters, there is no sense of movement, but one great difficulty, to exist, to be there, always alone.
These mannequins are small resting on the road, do not walk but remain suspended in air too heavy to be inhaled through. It's the air of abandonment, of the mercy that no one has the courage to give yourself a long heartbreaking truth that is not going to show. So these people walk, that perhaps men are, perhaps they are simply our dreams, are often forgotten and never recovered in that way that man does live in a city that constantly forgets.
The few white men remind me so much of Pulcinella, slightly inflated by the wind of the streets, who wander as spreaders of urban daily life now forcibly metabolized. The city is clearly of these characters, as in a pool of De Chirico, where the water becomes an element of tension, a quicksand that paralyzes. So do not walk the streets of Hyacinths his characters, there is no sense of movement, but one great difficulty, to exist, to be there, always alone.
There is considerable truth in these paintings. To me, that I am a passionate believer in these streets I see the taste of defeat, the head down, who do not want to repent but to exist, regardless of who wants to give guidance to their lives. And, strange case, these characters next to the metaphysical dream, I'm always about to leave or take a road, that is not the way, but a road, the road of indifference, of not know where to go ... and this is an actuality, first of all ethics. We face the faded photograph of a humanity often moral fabric too soft to give a definitive turning point to their existence. We are faced man with small u, which has yet to grow, mature and maybe, in his heart, has not yet discovered the truth he needs to make the leap.
A work of great interest, especially when matched with a certain kind of American literature today. In these paintings you can breathe the air of Leroy and his characters, especially the most abused, most of the defeated, but not from life but from the dreams. There are, in fact, in my opinion, two types of failures in life: those who go bankrupt because life's turns its back, because of an accident, illness, bad treason, and who, however, fails in dreams, or because they or loses because it has never managed to produce one. And I think this is the worst failure. Because even if a patient has a heart, dream within himself, in his heart, in those parts of the soul that unless they show to the next. But who does not dream, not humane, not imaginative capacity, unable to rise, even in the eyes of himself. And it
failure affecting the character of Hyacinth, is this, I believe, the hidden meaning or whatever it is able to suggest. The Hyacinth shows us the end of man, not the beginning, not his desire to take flight, to go elsewhere. If his magic telescope we could see the characters the next day, we see them in the same place, as laid down in a place where time has the only defect to pass.
Andrea Antoniazzi
Rome, 20/2/2008
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