The never born art

The year 1886 should have marked a watershed: the year in which Impressionism, the Movement born twenty years earlier, died; yet this turning point, much praised by art historians and critics, does not exist and never has. All that’s ever done is retrace the same old, wrong ground over and over again; because techniques are chosen and changed for the purpose of representation, but nothing new is ever created.

After Impressionism, all Seraut and Signac do with punctiform brush strokes is continue to “paint”, to express, to give an image to something as has always been done, whether that something was in the mind or outside it. So, it is the relationship that links the alleged artistic act with what is produced, the moment of human action that has always floundered around in the muddy waters of the most tedious obviousness, and is now drowning in them; it has always been, and continues to be, a ridiculous energumens race, trained by foolhardies, on the moneyed track of the most irritating banality, of the most disarming repetitiveness, of utter stupidity. Enough of this infected, dangerous mosquito that drones in our ears and bites us over and over again. Of this cunning, yet brainless cuttlefish, that squirts its slimy black ink in our eyes, blinding us. Thus, all that is left for so-called art is to find a diversion amid dull noises, itchy bites and obfuscating spits. Is this all vulgar? If only it were! It is quite simply the most luxurious gown that the fiction has decided to don. It’s a pity for the fiction that the gown is made from soggy paper.

Has anything changed over the decades?

Cézanne gives us his dull “intarsia” but jigsaw puzzles already existed. Gauguin continues the litany, even although using flat colours and enclosing figures in sharp outlines; perhaps afraid that they would flee? I wonder where Creation is in this serving up of enclosures that hem in vivid chromatisms, treating them like sheep.

Van Gogh, to represent with material gestural expressiveness that uses points and lines, does nothing more than follow along the same old lines of others who see or imagine something and use the means they have available – colours, canvases and whatever else – to depict it. And so? The story goes on. A technique is used to give shape to something that we either concretely see, or see in our mind.

And we will not find Art even in the naive figuration of Henry Rosseau or in the grotesque drawing of Henry de Toulouse-Lautrec.

And then comes Vittore Grubicy de Dragon, patron of the group which, with Segantini, Previati, Morbelli and Pellizza da Volpedo, unravelled the mundane amidst potato picking, maternities, stalls, old folks’ homes and hoards of workers; so, Pointillisme, which had already merely explained and reconstructed the visible, is nothing but repetition, devoid of Creation. Objects continue to be depicted, placing them on a surface that will bear them; what else but this?

The same old boring story continues in Mitteleuropa too with the “Secessions”: for sure that’s what they were, but not in that they wanted to break away from the others who do not raise the lid of the casket containing the power that leads to Creation. So Klimt strolls along hand in hand with Vienna and, drenching it in gold, chisels with painstaking adornments proliferating on a femininity that abandons itself to the synthesis of lineaments.

Then we come to the so-called “Vanguards” of the 20th century. Never was a definition so inapt; indeed, the intention is to suggest a bold “move ahead”; but the only “move ahead” they would have done well to make would have been to the edge of a bottomless precipice into which to throw themselves to free the scene from so much insufferable presumptuousness of Art!

Indeed, the term “methods” is used; something I believe to be nothing more than alleged diamond mines.


There is no Art if the method does not create structure comprising systems of immersed absolute signifiers, both logically and materially, in the enchanting pluridimensional reality of All, and which, holding the reins of all the signifieds transubstantiated in them, are therefore beyond any direct and univocal alphabetic decoding based on the equivalence of signification of the object and of its “formal representative”; because what happens, when Art rises suffocating from intentions of sense, is a transubstantiation of the object itself. And this is how the viewer lives the immersion in the transubstantiated dimension in the Work of Art along with all the other elements I have theorized in Expansionism, as the Work of Art is able to actively make use of his mind. It is only in this way that the unification between viewer and Work of Art can be obtained, through “absolute mechanism”. Only this unification can trigger the atemporal flailing of All being a prey to the irrepressible “Laws”, logical-materic passions of its own soul, through “necessary possibility” thirsting for itself. Only then can one drink one’s fill at the well overflowing with infinite trans-linguistic alphabets.

But let’s get back to history.

France, Germany and Austria welcome Expressionism; its representative ploys use primitivism, the strength of colour, figurative lines that embrace extreme formal exasperations and symbolic and pantheistic sense in the conception of nature; art is produced to express sentiments. But Art is an expression of nothing at all!

Cubism affects simultaneousness. It doesn’t achieve it. The eye moves between present, past and future on the surface of paintings and sculptures. It sees, sees again, moves, stares at another element and then maybe returns to what it has already observed. Simultaneousness, so boldly professed, is never achieved, remaining, therefore, at the paltry level of a ridiculous presumption.

Futurism sees in dynamism its prima donna. But, like in all the other “artistic” productions, everything that is realized falls perfectly into the never unobserved norm: it is always the depiction of shapes on supports or the presentation of real objects, whatever the origin of either the former and latter. In the history of mankind the image of something, or the thing itself, has always been presented. Even if on different assumptions, all “artists” do this whether they belong to earlier or later Movements or to other “poetic” ones: Abstractionism, Suprematism, Neoplasticism, Metaphysics, Dada, Surrealism, Abstract Expressionism, Informal, Spatialism, New Dada, Nouveau Realisme and Pop Art; the neo-Avant-gardes of the Sixties and Seventies as well as the post-modern poetics of the Eighties and Nineties to our days; there is no deviation from the embalming action which throughout time has killed the “never born”. Today it is Expansionism that is finally getting rid of this, giving birth to Art.

Inspiration has always been drawn from what has already been done; yet the footprints are always left by those who have already travelled a road; gathering is the alibi of who, aware of his incapacity, justifies himself a priori. And once again for the nth time we see that all we do is gather and never create! Gathering always comes after sowing. And the seed, though already infertile, cannot be gathered twice! This is the idiocy of repetition. It is repetition that is the trick of power. Because Creation is change. The chairs would fall! And the universities would abound in change. This is the danger that is exorcised. This is the danger we have to unleash! «The old paradigms of science will be cancelled only when the professors who have proposed them and who on these they have built their scientific and academic careers and their fortunes, are dead»; said Max Planck, winner of the Nobel prize in Physics. And do you think that this statement cannot be extended to the world of “culture”?

Art is immortal because, if it is Art, it is the eclectic Logical Force of All which transubstantiates itself while never failing to be itself, and it tells us Why. It emerges in the Sparkling Instant; it lets itself be caressed by the wind of Atemporality; it lights up with Matter.

Everyone has always said they make art based on something: spatialists, for example, claim that they produce new forms of art based on the concepts of space; but what is the point of art being “based on”? It’s like saying that there is something outside art itself, which grants it a “base”; but if art needs an external element to give it a “base”, this means that it is not enough in itself, and so it is not Art! Art is the Exceptional Organism, and the “Laws” could never have something external to themselves which give them a “base”, otherwise they would not be the “Laws”, and All would cease to exist; the “Laws” transubstantiate themselves becoming the dimension, becoming Art. This implies that the “Laws” in their totality, along with other “elements”, as I theorize, become Art, not leaving anything outside. That’s why I think that saying to transmit new forms of art based on the concepts of space, is stating the non-statement, and therefore the absence of sense, devoid, however, of any possible lack of sense. What a terrible vacuum!

«The gesture that splits the sphere», says Argan, «places in communication the exterior space with the interior one, the gesture that rips the canvas re-establishes the continuity between the space this side and the other side of the plane». Never has a definition contained a more embarrassing declaration of pointless banality. Indeed, the funny thing is that for the renowned Argan it was sufficient to describe the obviousness of what it is, to involuntarily demolish what he has described. The keyhole had already placed in communication external and internal space! And already for billions of years cave entrances have re-established the continuity between space this side and the other side of the plane!

Spatialism states that it expresses shapes, colours and sound through spaces; yet I ask myself: has anything ever been created by man that differs from that expressive method?

Art, in general, has always developed some premises; therefore, it is clear that you choose to act in a context, that is the “artistic” one, not drawing on the well of knowledge, but on that of the known.

Having “expressive needs” means looking for expression through a medium; Art is transubstantiation, and therefore does not contemplate any “means” to flourish; it is an Exceptional Organism which uses no medium. By paying attention to the medium, it is suggested that there is a content to express; once again it is expression! It is the manifestation of “something different” from the Artistic Object as such; otherwise no attention would be paid to the medium, because it would not be considered definable as a vehicle of an instance of thought or of any other type.

But the artists of Spatialism are fascinated above all by concepts such as energy, forces and currents; so, attention is placed on the means in order to create the work with the aim of using the “historical goals of the time” as if they were colours and brushes, therefore surpassing their assumption, collocation and development, and instead projecting their references in an artisanal context: the historical goals of the time are the objects of the alleged creation! Thus the means to create the work are chosen from this world, and the means come before the work! And so the work is a preconception! It is a prejudice! It precedes them in the mind of whoever wants to produce the work! It is foreseen! Expansionism is different, it does not assume anything, but lives in the Exceptional Organism.

However, targeting only Spatialism would be short-sighted; everyone sells the same glass diamond; nothing but priced inconsistency with variegated opaque faceting; everything has a cost, but nothing a Value.

Art is another thing.

Art is the universalized emission of echoes of spirit and body launched in the instant, logical and formal moments of the utmost complexity, crossed by veins pumping spirit and blood, and acting in an insurmountable dialectic which hypostasizes Value through the volumes, the lines, the articulations of shape, which exhaust any ambition of sense. Taking the Manifesto of Expansionism to be a universal and absolute code of Creation and atemporal communication, I penetrate, dodging the guardians of the horizon of the Non-evident, the inscrutable meanders of All and I illuminate them, as I make my way through. By abandoning all exasperated formal finiteness, I reveal to Humanity the kingdom of the unknown, a dimension where signified and signifier communicate with each other reasonably of the irrational, the inexpressible, giving thunderous answers. Omen of the eternal, of omnipotence and omniscience, it is the bioelectronics which, crashing down on the Cross of rays of information generating the Form, flattens out on Its arms, and does not dominate It, but embraces It. It is the triumph of the sacred through the desecration of the formless. The shudder of illumination has inspired it to immanence. The breath of transcendence animates it to elevation.

With vehement Love it is the moment to seize the intimate essence of a profoundly human moment, urging it to emerge in gestures which are already ritual, because since time immemorial they have been rooted in the direction of the cosmic symphony, and not only: it is the Work of Art, which evokes the flashing of silvery reflections which in the tumultuous fight dissolve as the foamy bloody clouds arrive to darken the golden shimmer of waves which have given life and now, in pain, donate it, losing it. I transubstantiate, with formal ferocity, the crudeness of the need for the obligation to devour time, to exist; violence in losing Life, a time bowing down before necessity; today, humiliating man’s intellect.

It is the dance of the “Laws” that leads the concretization of the very structure of the Liquid Light, sparkling, very precious and immutable even if mutant, consecrated by a jubilant exultation of harmonic outlines moved with immobility by the pulsating rhythm of a heart; I choose to lead its Original existence, through the dimension of the mental image, in the fervid dialogue of the senses flowing in the windy current of the perceivable concreteness; praiseworthy intention implemented in the immersion in that inebriation vivifying the conscience of the few elect who, in the pathos of the dance dragging the body in an immobile emphatic movement overpowering time and space, glimpse, seizing its fiery illumination, the burning gesture of the Non-evident.

With Art I catch the impalpable, the imperceptible, the ineffable, giving life to a lively dialectic between spiritual matter and anti-matter, making the two entities coexist through mutual and ecstatic contemplation. The inexhaustible plastic force, the indomitable logical vigour, the inescapable ethical drive, implicit in my Works, are the reflection of a Total intention, able to make decisive and shouted affirmations, if necessary, but which do not forget the vehement thrust of Allusion.

And that’s when the curtain opens.

Instantaneously languid reflections reveal the emergence of  the scene, moulding it.

The Visible and Invisible rise up, bold and comprehensible, in the theatre of the Being.

Rousing applause greets the precious Creation.

It is the triumph: the never born Art.

We will draw inspiration on the Love of the hatred of evil, in our final Work.

© Copyright Marco Ambrosecchia – ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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