Every two breaths, one is due to diatoms: single-celled organisms, algae which live in a house of glass and silicon, phytoplankton at the base of the marine fauna food chain. By inhaling carbon dioxide and exhaling oxygen, diatoms are responsible for 50% of all the oxygen needed for the biochemical balance of the planet. Their skeletons travel from the desert over the transoceanic winds to the Amazon, and once there, they feed and fertilize it. Diatoms are destined to disappear due to acidification and overheating of the oceans with potential catastrophic consequences for the human beings.

The CURATORS MILAN created an immersive empathetic space working on the analogy between the blatant evocation of a ghost by a magician of the late nineteenth century and the evocation of the ghost of diatoms through the evolution of a hologram technique in use in the nineteenth century.

The technique used for the installation is itself a point of balance, in this case not between man and nature but between past and present. On the one hand, the creation of a hologram, an element born through 3D animation, speaks about modernity and the digital. On the other hand, everything acquires an ethereal substance through an ancient technique, that of the "ghost of Pepper", already used by illusionists in the 800. In this case, however, the reflecting surface that projects the image into space is not hidden, but revealed, as a window through which we can see a different reality.

Douglas Coupland, a Canadian writer and artist, said years ago that 'we're rapidly approaching a world comprised entirely of jail and shopping.

How does that sound as a premonition? Timely?

The prison of the day is caused by a pandemic whose genesis is and will be ignored for a long time.

And yet, beyond pindaric digressions and conspiratorial arabesques, there seems to be a certain convergence of opinions in pointing to the uncontrolled exploitation and stripping of our mother nature of its intrinsic harmony as the cause of what we are experiencing (perhaps not the only cause, perhaps not the primary one, but nevertheless a cause).

REWILD, which is a cycle of installations that hopes to provide a space for the local voices that consider the current state of things to be an emergency, was also born in a prison (and no, it has no ambition to sell, in case you wondered).

However, its red zone prison is perforated: ulcers allow a glimpse of what the prison contains.

If you were to walk down Via Maroncelli in Milan, you would realise: the gallery is closed, like so much else in our lives today, but the reflection is open.

Through the cracks in the shop windows on the street you might glimpse a balancing dart, synthetic diatoms, the absence of plant life.

You would have the opportunity to observe, at will, convicts from the privileged vantage point of your own cell.

And if, in the mirror, you see yourself, let us talk about it, discuss it, because it would seem that there is still a thin thread of hope.

Douglas Coupland, scrittore e artista canadese, disse anni fa che “we're rapidly approaching a world comprised entirely of jail and shopping”.

La prigione del giorno è causata da una pandemia di cui si ignora e si ignorerà a lungo la genesi.

Eppure, al di là delle digressioni pindariche e degli arabeschi complottistici, sembrerebbe esserci una certa convergenza di opinioni nell’additare come causa di quello che stiamo vivendo (magari non unica, magari non primaria, eppur sempre causa), l’incontrollato sfruttare e spogliare nostra madre natura della sua intrinseca armonia.

REWILD, che è un ciclo di installazioni che ha la speranza di fornire uno spazio alle voci nostrane che considerano una emergenza lo stato attuale delle cose, nasce anch’essa in prigione (e no, non ha l’ambizione di vendere, nel caso ve lo siate chiesti).

Tuttavia la sua prigione color rosso zona (declinazione del cremisi sangue), è perforata: ulcere lasciano intravedere quello che la prigione contiene.

Passaste per via Maroncelli a Milano, ve ne rendereste conto: la galleria è chiusa, come molto altro delle nostre vite attuali, ma la riflessione aperta.

Dalle fessure delle vetrine su strada potreste intravedere un dardo equilibrista, delle diatomee sintetiche, l’assenza di vita vegetale.

Avreste l’occasione di osservare, a piacimento, dei condannati, dal punto di vista privilegiato della vostra cella.

E nel caso, nello specchiarvi, vedeste voi stessi, parliamone, discutiamone, ché ancora, sembrerebbe, c’è uno filo sottile di speranza.

O abbassate lo sguardo e proseguite con l’acquisto.