Here we are with another episode of "What happens when you bring a flexible to a screen?" Spoiler: Do not try this at home. We strongly advise against it unless you want to have hair like mine.
This time, the chosen location was farther than last week's, but it was still within our country, to be more precise, in the heart of it, in the capital. You all know Rome and its beauties: the Colosseum, the Imperial Fora, the Pantheon, carbonara, and the "coatti" (an Italian slang term referring to rowdy individuals).
It's in this marvelous setting that the performance takes place. But let me give you a general overview of the event for a moment.
We were at Rome NFT Week, so you can imagine who the attendees were and what they were involved in, in the beautiful space of the We Gil palace, hosted by the folks from Tokenable, a relatively new Web3 entity.
Compared to the previous exhibition, I adjusted a couple of details: first, I didn't make appearances in the middle of the audience this time. I stayed quietly in a side room to build up the hype. Although the temptation to let the outside world know that I was still alive was strong, and especially the guests were not in the room where the performance would take place, but downstairs, so they could "gather."
This time, we did things big. To announce my performance, Massimo Ruotolo from Tokenable, whom I sincerely thank, took the stage to say a few words about the event. Then everyone went into the performance room, only to find a tripod with a television on it. I was somewhere completely different. We created a bit of general panic for a couple of seconds among the audience who didn't exactly understand what was supposed to happen.
And then, I arrived. I made my entrance with the television in hand and placed it on the tripod. Then I began to do what I do best: cut. The selected background was somewhat special; it wasn't a real image but that effect of pixelated black and white dots you see when the screen can't find a signal. You can interpret this as a personal critique.
In the initial moments of the performance, it almost felt like I had no one around me. I was so focused on the blade that the world around me disappeared, and there was only Her: the light. Then suddenly, I hesitated. I hadn't finished yet; it was incomplete, but that's how it had to be. I realized what I had just created was beautiful, and I almost felt jealous of showing it to others, but I did.
I stepped away from the center to allow the audience to view it and answered the many questions that were asked, still shaken by the previous detachment from reality. When people left, I stayed there for a few more minutes, alone with my work, looking at that light that tore through the screen from deep within. At that moment, I remembered the words of a young artist from the early 1900s when everyone thought he was crazy: "I cut; infinity passes through there, light passes through, there is no need to do anything else."
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