MARCH SESSION 2013 Benna

Benna

Project for NYBA: "Nothing happened"Who was drowsy awakes, others exhaust their time; who was elsewhere is elsewhere even when is coming back, and the cycle ends. The wheel turns: those who wanted to escape this simple motion have invented complex levers and mechanisms, mysterious machinations to exploit the strengths of others, dreaming the perpetual motion, in the inertness, as parasites. Living by the others' soul does not preserve one's own, and to elude the logic of entropy is a fruit of the illusion; to think about procrastination means not to live, to freeze, to deny what Atropo provided and let it to decay closed into a drawer; it is to proclaim one's own misfortune; it is the mournful crying of the coward. The video "nothing happened" is the narration that completes the homonymous series of sculptures initiated in 2003 and realized with broken and recomposed chalices or glasses. The chalice is metaphor of abundance, of life, of union in love, but also of inheritance to be divided, of loot, of easy opportunities and of improvident abuse. The chalices that break falling from the hands are the end of the substance, the end of the party, the end of the opportunities after the last drop has been drunk from that cup which represents the impoverishment of oneself and the others. The wheel turns, the times are changing, but this is only a cycle that recurs. Who was drowsy awakes: since a long time we assist to the prodromes of the transition from the wild era of the intelligence to the intelligence of the wild era. It is coming the end of an epoch of artificiality, of sophistication and mystification, of pollution and degradation, of wounds that for avidity have been kept open with any stratagem; wounds that want to close again, even preserving the scars as evidences of what it has been. The meaning of the repairing: desperate attempt of unwillingness to look at reality, illusion that nothing could change, that the winning game is not over, even in the Elysium. At the end, there is no trace of the Self, but just the vacuity into the useless memorabilia of the extorted fate.