The world is no longer before him to representation: it is rather the painter who was born in things like concentration and came to him the visible and the picture, finally, can relate to anything empirical only if they first autofigurativo may showsomething just being show about nothing, piercing the skin of things to show how things do things, and the world world.
Born in Florence in 1978, graduated in Philosophy in 2006, he spent long periods in London and Berlin to study in deep the languages of contemporary art. His works are turned to the subject of sign and space; as Egruhgs Sntyeggh, well-known art critic, has had the opportunity to write “in Massimo Quadrelli’s works the sign claims his own inner life from the beginning exactly because it arranges and composes itself. The artist becomes observer of the event, genesis of meaning, initiation into the connection side of the sign with the sign as the basis of a final report with the sense”.
LOGIQUE DE LA PÉNSÉE PRÉALPHABÉTIQUE
Logique de la pensée préalphabétique” or the slope of search sapienziale of the first roots, in odor similarly of anthropology and of magic, of philosophy and of alchemy. Not the game iconografico, not the oneiric illustration fascinates him, but what is in the words of Picasso “the sun in the belly”, the dark and prelogical intuition of the life, to be born and to lose the form, some ability of the sign to run away to himself toward a radiant reverberation of senses.The artist faces “the presence of the sign”, he makes it grow and to form it as reality in itself. He doesn’t care to recognize it, to engrave it a destiny, a lògos common:il sense of the trial is to excite it to give it, to make generation, in the mobile flow and without master that is it really. In these evident tangencies, they also fed of oriental suggestions, resides an attitude that doesn’t recognize it in some to have to be of the painting, less than the current idea of language, and of style.Therefore, the picture doesn’t represent any things, but it is presence: it doesn’t tell the reality, because, in itself, reality. “The paper-canvas|space resounds as a membrane, a to flow of feelings, images, signs without master so immediate and indirect to pierce in truth of lived; a to climb some thought, a to converge, a to overlap of ‘fragmentations of memory’, one to fray it and a to renew it of nothing, ‘flesh’ of time and of space.”