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LIBRO VIA CRUYLLAS

Not about fulfilment

Sebastiano Di Guardo

 

Salvatore Ferrara, with this work of his own, wants to fool you around. He wants you to believe what he is not: a childish hand that holds an adult hand to drag its steps, finally leading it to the astonishing sight of a powerful path still alive, being the adult hand ours and the childish one his own. Here is where the deceitful journey begins: Start. The castle is slow, denied by its own history, always too near or too far, empty and short, only useful to make us look around in search of something, to make us want to get on our knees, lend a hand to our cheeks and smile. Then, what we all were waiting for finally happens: run, danger, speed, emotions at last. And everything goes back and forth, downhill and uphill, like a nervous ballet before the calm horizon we finally have become worthy of. Finish. These images are spontaneous emersions from a child: instant pictures imprinted in the film of memory, that then had a mecchanical and chemical conclusion over time: the fulfillment of a memory. If you read Via Cruyllas like this, it fools you around. There is nothing childish in this work. All of the hands you see here are  tremendously adult and strong. Even those ones that were raised to say “I’m ready for this strain yet to come”. There is another possibile key to read this work, indeed: to observe these images not just as storytelling photographs, but as the photographer’s desire of being part of the story. Here lies the possibility of avoiding the deceit, and to find out what Salvatore Ferrara really put in this work. We are not talking about fulfilment, therefore, but about participation and technique. The child, of course, do exist, but he didn’t imprint anything in the film of memory. The child simply, but strongly - like only a child can do -, knows it all: by holding his father’s adult hand, this child does not watch images, but lives a story, by comprehending, unawares, the most important feature: rituality. Uphill and downhill share the same time and space in their repetition, and they are just one story to be lived and then told: you can’t tell a ritual, you need to (re) live it. And this is what Salvatore Ferrara did in this work. For all of these reasons, Via Cruyllas is not be considered a work made up of single components: it’s only in the comparison and in the relation between the images that one can understand what  living inside the story really means. Details are not the cause of the palpitating instant made apparently still by the shot. Everything depends on the researched technique for transmitting the meaning. Via Cruyllas wants to live inside the ritual. The ritual begins: start. What is going to happen does not need to be placed up on the tongue or beared in mind before the time, it will always be like it has always been, because its space and time are unchanged: they are a repetition and they do not need anything more. The castle, for the same reason, does not need anything more too. Height and width are always the same, signed dimensions that sign the view. We feel like the landscape itself is breathing, and we find somenthing that breaks the pose and forces us to head back, untill we accept the rules, or the danger coming from centrality that leads us back to the canon. The castle is therefore pure strenght that cannot express itself in its standard ways: Salvatore Ferrara’s look – and so ours look too – superimposes several times and from different point of views to mark up the right dimension: a story that, indifferent to repetitions, is going to take place. Everybody knows what is going to happen: you can be part of the bored audience from a different point of the horizon: surpise does not belong to this story, the arms are folded: you just have to wait for time and space to meet up and recognize one with the other, there is nothing new or unknown in this, we can only bend down to hear the sounds of this meeting. Finally, the repetition takes place, and it would lose its charm if it was defined and clear. It’s hidden and hard to be chased. Time and space turn into dust and movement: gestures are blurred and powerful, nothing can be stopped now, blank spaces of the page play with our balance, leaving to the hands that hug the faces the job to release our stress. There is no thinking and no calcutating: every gesture simply needs to happen and so it drives all the fragile articulations like a master. The only thing that can stop us is recognizing a holy shape of saint arms carved in the wood. The path back is well traced, and the second half of the ritual is ready to happen. Gazes are no more toward the ground, but up to the sky. The perception of danger has changed: we are no more scared of falling down; what scares us now is being aware of our own strenght. We are carryng a man, now, no more a piece of wood. The arrival is finally devotion, space and time are our master dimensions once again. And now that what needed to happen happened and that all the passages have been closet, what is still to be done is to confirm the direction of the existence of what will be, alway identical and punctual. Just like a calm wave in the calm sea: when it raises up, you already know that it will fall down. Finish.

 translates
Mario Fillioley

Testi | texts

Associazione Culturale Promo Loco
Via Cruyllas Calatabiano.

 
 
 
Traduzione |  translates
Virginia Vaccaro
 
 
 
Traduzione |  translates
Mario Fillioley
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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