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ImageIn a perusal of Stefano Chiacchella's paintings we are struck most of all by the presence of women.

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.

Rita Castigli

 
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