I experienced the “Spiritual in Art” by Kandinsky through Riccardo Licata´s performance in Pordenone…

by Marco Minuz | May 13, 2011 in Weaving Relations | Leave A Comment

There are some books which, although hard reading, are for various reasons widely known. We know many of their ideas, they are often quoted, found in bibliographies and are relevant to the present day. They are mysterious books, shrouded in a sense of sacredness which does not always go together with a close knowledge of their content. Rather like people we see every day in the street: although we know nothing of their lives, their appearance is part of our everyday experience.

One of these books is Kandinsky’s “The Spiritual in Art” (1910). Everyone has a rough idea what it is about: the analysis and subjective effects of colour and its relation with music.It is a theoretical work, expressing a creed and possibly hope, written not in the superficial explanatory style of a manual for everyday use, but directed towards a deeper spiritual reflection. For too long, I had been considering reading this book as a duty rather than a pleasure, a work which I have occasionally picked up when I happened to notice it on the bookshelf, like Kandinsky said: “I caught a glimpse of just a faint point of light in an immense black circle.” But, like a sudden unexpected breath of wind, my feelings towards this book recently changed during an evening at PARCO, the new Gallery of Modern and Contemporary Art in Pordenone.

On this occasion the painter Riccardo Licata did some drawings in a perspex structure in front of an audience to the accompaniment of music played by violinist Lucio Degani and pianist Ferdinando Mussutto. That evening two different different means of expression, each with its own vocabulary, two uses of the hands, interacted, embraced and maybe even tried to woo each other.

It was not a random meeting of minds but was intended to demonstrate the strong influence that music has on this artist. As he himself says: “My painting is born through music and the desire to visualize it.” To see this man, now over 80 years old, inspired by the music, standing and working with coloured pens in his hands, was indeed a moving experience. The sight of his feet beating time and his eyes fixed on his hands inspired by the music took me back to Kandinsky’s book and his “Spiritual in Art”.

It suggested not a simple schematic and stereotyped relationship but a multi-faceted interaction rich in complexity and structure. That interplay of music and painting seemed to come from the depths of time; from the caves illuminated by sacred flames, decorated with graffiti and filled with the sounds of vibrating drumskins. It was something spiritual, not to be intellectually described but instinctively and personally felt. It was one of those rare occasions which transport us somewhere else, to unknown regions where we are allowed a sight of something beyond our normal range of vision.

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