In Mattia Turco, the representation is a vibration to be indulged and researched, as it conceals itself in every ravine. The artist’s effortless play with hues is what amazes, they reverberate as if on music sheets. Before such works of art, the choice of abstraction appears to pander to a vision that obscures a clear identification, but we would be mistaken, were we not to venture any further in our contemplation. A beat of colours pulses as they appear and disappear, at the threshold of a chromatic galaxy that always finds new black holes to fill with the fervour of further nuances.
The iconography erases itself only to return as a mere appearance, a single moment bound to a measured thunder of colours, infinite amid our finitude. We find ourselves witnessing a sort of archaeology of listening passing through a sedimentation of various colouring before splintering in diversified sensorial rivulets.
It appears we are in the presence of an explicit vibration of sound, one that is made subject without concrete significations. At the sight of these pieces, the eye finds itself in constant movement, looking for imaginary footholds that transmute into anchors for perception.
Not everything is as it seems in revealing the visionary character of a work of art that presents virtuosities of sorts. The appearing act keeps changing, aesthetically dispersing itself in innumerable rivulets.
There is a dialogue subtended between the noise and the visual, whilst the artist works by subtraction, adding and removing layers of oil and pastel, recording the conversation on the last one, the black layer that is then paradoxically hidden. Alberto Burri affirmed how blacks are more than one, and in Mattia Turco’s work they merge with the shades, disappearing in the end result.
Coloristic contrasts amplify the reach of everything aforementioned. There is a frequency that mutates, mutating the mutant. Colours are vibrant, played on the juxtaposition of opposites, but the pictorial gesture is delicate, with single details being erased. The last layer poses as a still image/recording of that immense magma that pulses beneath the surface.
To see in another way allows for the partial loss of control, signifying the anticipation of the outcome. The actualisation, born out of a mnemonic method, causes storms, flashes of light, sudden glares, pattern sequences that mix together gas, reverberating stones creating interference, luminosity in the optical illusion of planes.
The interesting aspect is observing how a skateboard champion chooses an iconography that moves in an entirely different stylistic direction compared to the classic and illustrative one associated with his discipline, yet simultaneously completes its journey.
Everything that happens on the surface is not fortuitous. It is an electric battle between intermitting pulsations, reminiscent of the urban street and the walls, that deafening reverberates.
The private, inner and extremely poetic world of Mattia Turco that reveals itself on the canvas is measurable only with a frequency meter of universal music. It presents us with an unexpected edge that surprises us and is exactly perfect in its completeness.