The female form is the vehicle that brigs home the aesthetic and plastic values that synthetize the beauty of the universe: the astronaut walks on a moon which is the sphere of a breast, Virginie's smile has the energy and mystery of a Mediterranean noon, and Ninas hips redesign lacy Venetian mullioned windows.

There are no landscapes.

The only landscape is humanity, faces and bodies are the dawns and sunset in a reality which is wholly urban and technological.

Even nudity is anchored in the present thanks to a wristwatch or a pair of high-heeled shoes or of thigh-high stokings in juxtaposition with ancient Greek and Minoan images. Because here there is no past and history is all recent and personal.

Similarly the rendition of famous paintings in a modern key highlights their distance: the figures of the "Dejeuner sur lherbe" are freaks and punks; it is Manet who watches himself in the mirror of the Bar Les Folies Berges destroying illusion and amazement; Neptune emerges blue and godly with his trident from the sea in front of sunglassed sprawling bathers.

Chiacchella approaches archetypes with irony: a plate of spaghetti is surrounded by a group of somber, meticolously dressed men and women; "The Parata" throws together and vanifies symbols of eagles an broadswords; the Still life has a computer mouse on a sky with stars and a crescent moon, which is perhaps, a mousepad

And that sky-no-sky may synthetize Chiacchella's game (and poetry) where immagination, sensuality and irony create the rich palimpsest of his works.