In the art, someone thought that the passing of an artist implies an economic recovery of the artworks, both historically and economically. This is a thought that follows a simple process. Necessarily, a stop in production causes an artworks reassessment. This is rarely done. The artist's image must be kept alive by gallerists, critics and actors from the art system, otherwise it will fade. Even a group of passionate collectors is not enough. That is a generous effort but useless.

Once upon a time, during an auction, people would challenge each other to the last breath. You clearly knew who was your opponent or, at the very least, the bidder who was least likely to yield. Often, you would settle at the back of the room  to better understand the moods of what was unfolding before you, without giving your opponents any advantage. Then, gradually, the practice of phone bidding became widespread. An opponent hiding behind a wire, with the support of a kind assistant, ready to intelligently stimulate his or her aspirations.

Men who converse, who weave relationships, seem almost like friends just for a few minutes. It happens, even between strangers. It happens, even in a summer of war.

The power of the image has now overtaken the written word. In our society, a photographic report on a sensitive subject is worth more than a hundred articles. And magazines at all latitudes make an immoderate, shameless and perhaps excessive use of them. Thanks also to the influence of the web, photos have become an everyday habit. Everyone shoots, posts and talks, with disarming simplicity and tireless continuity.

Among Eduardo De Filippo's memoirs, another extraordinary anecdote pops up. It is 1946, the war has recently ended. The playwright had finished the draft of 'Filumena Marturano' and took advantage of a family evening, among a few friends, to give it an intimate preview. At the end of a passionate, attentive and intense reading, he looked up from his notes and noticed that everyone was crying. Titina, his sister, came up to him and kissed his hands through her tears.

Generally speaking intelligence seems to have largely diminished. This problem doesn’t only stem from the politicians who represent us. There is a certain cultural flattening that leads, for example, every fiction to a constant and eternal reproduction. At first it was "Beautiful" that proposed itself as a daily mantra, today there are TV shows with serial numbers: 2,3,4,5, they go on as long as the public wants it, as long as the audience is able to bear it.

The charm of the invisible reigns supreme. Frequently, observing the back of an artwork, it happens to unexpectedly discover a geographic map, made of title blocks, inventory numbers, exhibitions, stamps and expositions. A scenery that, funnily enough, run the risk of being more important of the painting itself.

There was an old collector who had placed the self-portraits of all the artists he loved in his entrance hall. He wanted to meet their gaze immediately, without anxiety or compromise. He wanted to look them in the eye upon his return, to understand something more, to fully embrace his obsession. A painting is never finished being deciphered. Every moment seems to offer you a new sensation.

She investigates canvas, marble and steel in a crescendo of emotional stresses

At the beginning the ghost of Lucio Fontana appears and with him the clean cut that goes to “surgically” desecrate the canvas to conquer the third dimension. Fontana thus revealed himself, traumatic and transgressive, to many experimenters of the “beyond” in space and of the “beyond” within his own person.

An intense research between ‘58 and ‘60 is at the origins of the birth of the Trame and of the Oggetti ottico-dinamici

Alberto Biasi created the overlapping perforated papers entitled Trame from 1958 to 1960. Then, while in his twenties, he had started that research by chance, during an experience he had undertaken following the advice of his father Giuseppe who, by family traditions, wanted him to be an expert in agronomy.