In the common imagination the figure of the “failed” is often juxtaposed to other personalities, situations and professions that have always fascinated me greatly.
Let’s think of the banal clown and the whole practical philosophy of laughter: repetition; the failure of an implicit order; the fall. The clown itself encapsulates, even in its physicality, all the elements rejected by a progressive standard.
This is where our character is born, nothing more than a Pandora’s box containing all our shame and fears, which, using them, demystifies them into clumsy acts and dyslexia. All of this becomes over time a method to achieve laughter.
Laughing at a possibility, at a probable self if I were not so inclined to the rules that maintain balance in “decency”.
What I’ve always found interesting is the paradox that lives in the spectator, that extraneous self-portrait only in the costume, in the red nose, that is actually us.
In all my works this paradox is strongly present. When the form is glossy there is always a gesture ready to unhinge it. The loss of time, the hymn to idleness, the invitation to uncomfortableness, all relations between the spectator self and the self that embarrasses us.
The sign: the writing, the scarring, the vandalism.
All things we couldn’t do, we do and we hide it, but we wish we could.