Sachgebiete

Beschreibung:

115 S.; Illustrationen; 28 cm; fadengeh., illustr. Orig.-Pappband.

Bemerkung:

Gutes Ex. - Englisch u. italienisch. - ... I distinctly remember my second journey through time. I was intoxicated by the euphoria and excitement of having discovered that by tapping my red heels I really could experience the taste of long-forgotten times, and in particular of those magical places that over time have become a part of history itself. I look back at myself amongst hats and collars, white and black and a number 5. It is 1926 and Coco Chanel has established her empire, where the luckiest ladies can finally buy their essential "petite robe noir". I remember the time I decided to visit the historic hotel at 222 West Street, where I saw Arthur Miller and Marilyn Monroe slip incognito into room 614. Oh what times those Chelsea days were!... traces of music, art, fights, deaths, darkness, poetry and life permeating the walls and the air, all under the same roof. Then it's back again to Manhattan and a meticulously planned visit to Studio 54; the theater where extravaganza had no limits and where anyone could be the main character. Then a lurch forward to the 90s in Italy... The Locale, that historical hub of music, in which the mix between jam sessions, theatre festivals, cabarets and unique Olivetti-style decors would produce an unforgettable new Roman dolce vita. Then I am sipping the blue cocktail uniquely created for the Yves Klein exhibition at the incomparable Iris Clert Gallery. At the same famous opening I see the Parisian skies filled with blue balloons... And now? Where can I go? I close my eyes once more and there I am again. I walk through Rome's city-centre, I greet the Tiber whilst crossing Ponte Sisto, while the notes of the many street performers lend rhythm to my steps. I stop - one of my red heels is stuck in the bright cobbled pavement, just outside the door of an art gallery: the Dorothy Circus Gallery. I enter, and almost immediately I am greeted by sweet, tantalising and inviting fragrances. The atmosphere is romantic and neo-gothic at the same time. An enormous purple chandelier is resting peacefully in a shop window like a guardian, surrounded by sculptures that seem to be made out of sugar paste, and by curious resin characters. "Am I living a deja-vu? Or am I in the middle of a Tim Burton Film?" the red velvet walls play host to the artwork of the greatest representatives of the international Pop Surrealism scene. The greatest of attention has been paid to every last detail, from the frames to the artworks' captions; without leaving anything to chance. Gradually, as I visit the gallery, I realise that the exhibitions are like stories; a precise theme for a precise artist, who has been selected to interpret it and describe its details. The inaugurations are tailor-made, just like the dresses or the masks of the girls in the room, offering gastronomical delights and themed musical performances set up by the curator who, like a magician, pulls out of her magic hat a piano played by a mysterious white dame or an 18th century harp player. During my many extravaganza-filled nights at the Dorothy Circus Gallery I have relived my blue nightmares, I have climbed onto the magic coach of the circus. I have found myself in the love garden following the seducing scent of a first miracle. Here, I have admired for the first time the giant head of Colin Christian coming out of a wall. Only here have I been able to physically touch and witness with my own eyes the surreal becoming almost physical and tangible. The thing that I remember most vividly, the same thing that magically reveals itself to me every time I return, is the sensation of being in a space with no limits or boundaries, somewhere between New York and Wonderland, where mysterious and supernatural elements emerge all of a sudden from liquid landscapes and blend together, just like the other historical places mentioned earlier, everything here, whether apart of a routine day or a deluxe vernissage, becomes something extraordinary and special, projecting the visitor into unexpected grotesque and fantastical dimensions; ultimately dragging him into a surrealist, cosmic and intimate kingdom. My red heels echo on the black parquet, I mentally move away from the books in view on the bookshelves of the shop, and from the countless copyrighted toys that keep a watchful eye even at night, I salute the characters of every picture and I begin to fantasise, enlightened by labyrinthic visions of new, plausible planets. ? (Vorwort) ISBN 9788888493886