Christina-Marie Lümen
a matter of time, 2024
How do you look at a person who looks at you, not simply representing her?
The story of two artists. The idea of one developed in the other’s painting, and these images influenced her sculptures in turn. The artist-couple Roberta Cotterli and Claudio Zorzi jointly present their work. Roberta Cotterli’s sculptures examine male representation in art history; Claudio Zorzi’s portraits develop the idea of a modern icon. Both artists investigate time in relation to process, art history, and moments spent with the other.
Roberta Cotterli’s Target (2023) shows the fragments of a male torso, its arms stretched upward and surrounded by arrows. The sculpture recalls depictions of Saint Sebastian: despite the violence of the situation, the posture is elegant and fierce. The resin arrows resemble alabaster; the light shines through the iridescent surface, and the red nuances of latex colouring in the armpit and on the elbows evoke the natural shades of the marble. The impression is firm and fragile at the same time. Cotterli has not worked with the male body before; until now, her practice focused on the female one: intimate references to a girl’s childhood intersect with clustered busts and limbs of older women. While former pieces show the same ambiguity between strength and fragility, a new element appears in her approach to the masculine: conquer. All of Cotterli’s sculptures in the exhibition cite stories in Christian iconography: Saint Sebastian, Saint John the Baptist or Holofernes. The male body is being wounded or slaughtered. Trophy (2023) is a latex reproduction of a male head; again, the material reminds of the multiple shapes of polychrome marbles, and the posture references classical male portraiture or ancient death masks. The expression on the face is peaceful; the deep violet colour below the eyes evokes bruises or rotten meat: it is a gentle killing. The ambiguity between violence and caress is a constant characteristic of her production. The lightness of the material and the moulding through the artist’s hands suggest empathy opposed to the brutal depiction.
In a similar vein, the woman in Roberta wearing a kimono (2023) looks firmly but gently upon the viewer. Her expression is questioning, her pose discrete and dignified. She resembles a Madonna; her body seems to be shining with a halo from the back; the brim of her kimono recalls the royal vestment. Claudio Zorzi’s portraits approach their subjects from a perspective of constant change: the paintings of his partner Roberta are an ongoing series, without the intention to pin down; they aim to capture a process. Roberta, portrait no. 8 (2023) is bold, provocative, and cool. The prosaic surroundings and the sitter’s relaxed pose remind you of the portraits by David Hockney or Alice Neel. A moment of observation and encounter, suspended tension between the model and the painter (viewer). The painting suggests a double emancipation: of the female sitter, who ceases to offer her body as an exchange good, and of the male artist, who looks upon her without any sense of voyeurism. There is no male gaze, no female muse: these are exercises and homages. Roberta in front of the mirror (2023) shares the implication of a modern queen. The floral motif of the kimono brings to mind Henri Matisse’s Odalisques, female portraits in an orientalist style, while the short haircut and the mirror arrangement evoke paintings from New Objectivity. The portrait surface is coarse, and the image seems broken throughout. The artist works from photographs, applying numerous layers of paint in acrylic, oil, shellack and soil. During his slow process, Zorzi loses and recreates the figure again and again. His paintings relate to the artist himself; they are a means of dialogue and self- discovery. As the most classical motif in art history, the portrait allows him to develop a dialogue with previous artists and to follow their ideas. Throughout the process, Zorzi discovers a part of him along with the sitter.
A pivotal role in his practice is assigned to the self-portrait: Transmutation, self-portrait no. 11 (2022) flashes on the Veil of Veronica, the imprint of Christ’s face on a piece of cloth, taken on his way to Mount Calvary. A captured moment in time, both as proof and inquiry. While the Christian iconography and the motif of the head in Cotterli’s Trophy relate to it, her Pietas (2023) evidences the theme of the hands for both artists. Once again, the sculpture displays a violent act: a pair of extended hands pierced by long nails. The gesture is not tense, though, but simultaneously giving and receiving. The title refers to the Roman concept of ‘pietas’, the virtue of perfectly fulfilling your duties towards the deities and your fellow human beings. Represented by a female goddess, it speaks of duty and devotion. The motif reminisces the hands of Jesus and other Christian martyrs; they evoke compassion rather than pain. A moment of male duty (from the martyr/model) and female devotion (from the goddess/artist). Likewise, the hands in Zorzi’s portraits of Roberta are precisely executed and form a visual counterweight to the heads. Their gesture expresses grace and a sense of (male) caring.
Despite their different media, the two artists share specific subjects and sources. Visual and material exploration combines with art historical references and art sociological considerations. The exhibition centres around the question of muse and model, suggesting a play between intimate representation vs. presented intimacy. The works tell stories of the sitter and the artist, and the two of them together; they shift between artistic investigation and expressions of care. Classical motifs are taken up and continued, roles are turned around. Old Masters and Christian iconography intersect with the Contemporary. a matter of time.
Silvia Carapellese
My House is Made of Flesh, 2020
In ‘My House is Made of Flesh’ Roberta Cotterli questions and elaborates the concepts of memory and trace, time and space, substance and body. Archiving memories is a method as linked to human instinct as it is to the practice of cataloguing works of art. Memory, assumed as a familiar and personal reminiscence, is the protagonist of exasperated research on physical substance, traces, on becoming and therefore on the decomposition of the material itself as well as the deterioration of the body. The artist’s universe is studded with elements that come from her biographical experience, intertwining biblical episodes and references to art history. The concepts that Cotterli addresses in her artistic research are manifested through experimentation and the mixture of different materials. As a result, we see three- and two-dimensional works in which the process is visible: the vulnerable traces of time and its physical becoming are imprinted in plaster, resin, silicone or paper.
‘My House is Made of Flesh’ presents a series of completed works that at the same time remain indefinite. The aim is to show the intermediate stages and the creative process itself. The work Bricks dwells on this very aspect, being both a finished work and a ‘mise en scéne’. Interesting is the application of the painting technique of ‘glazes’ in sculpture. The work deals on a formal level with what will be conceptually developed in the following I built my own cage and Run, Baby, Run. Bricks are the base, the raw material for the foundations of a house, but if you consider the architectural work in its conclusion, bricks are its structure and internal skeleton. Similarly in a body, the skin is the starting material, but it is also the most superficial. It is like a diary that records every event in the process of growth and transformation. As the work Run, Baby, Run symbolizes, every trace of time is like a tattoo: it can be erased, but it will always remain a scar. Departing from material that is highly unpredictable, the artist’s work is consequently always unique. The tangible becoming in Cotterli’s works makes us rediscover the authentic value of the work of art, even in the age of its mechanical reproduction and seriality, to quote Walter Benjamin.
I built my own cage and Run, Baby, Run speak loud and clear: body means shelter and protection, but it also represents the cage and the trap that we involuntarily built to our detriment. Both pieces reveal a claustrophobic feeling born from the impossibility of changing the state of things, in other words, the impossibility of running away from the body dimension. However, the static nature of the first one contrasts with the dynamic meaning of the second. Exasperating the concept of body and transformation The best offer and Samson and Delilah, which once again start from episodes of the artist’s personal experience, actually analyze the concept of ex-voto and relic in the religious sphere. The history of art is permeated by episodes and debates related to idolatry and iconoclasm: the worship of idols and simulacra, as well as the desire to destroy them, are two swinging feelings that recur in the theories of the image. Starting from the concept of the relic, the artist continues her research on evolving substance, transformation and stream of time. From the analysis of some exemplary moments in the growth of a human being, Cotterli draws a series of works with a strong allegorical charge. With The best offer, the teeth offered by the hands of a child figuratively represent one of the first crucial moments in one’s physical and psychological growth. Just as wisdom teeth in popular belief should announce the beginning of maturity. On the other side, Samson and Delilah, starting from the reference to Delilah’s biblical betrayal, refers to the haircut as a symbolic meaning of change, almost a declaration of intent, a stance that also touches on certain religious traditions and practices.
The entire cycle of works has to be read as the travel diary of a lifetime, in which all the experiences that have marked us and those that are yet to come are transcribed. ‘My House is Made of Flesh’ is a visual autobiography, a ‘cadavre exquis’ realized with parts of other people’s bodies and without including her own. The result is an individual and collective research, in which the artist is at the same time intimately present but physically absent.