L'orizzonte che respira

The ‘fil rouge’ that unites these pages is not red, but it is black, equally – if not even more – enthralling. It is a thread that I assimilate with the sign, the one that runs along the sheet telling thoughts and suggestions until it forms a unique fabric, to weave that very personal, unique web of words and images. The same thread that from a trace engraved on the plate becomes an ink mark on the paper, the one that runs along the ridge of the mountains, that sinks into the gullies of our hills or barely borders the sea, there at the end of the valley.
And even more so is the thread that binds masters and pupils, places and people, even distant ones, that does not break… it perhaps transforms, guiding us however towards the horizon that, wide and bright, breathes (M. Bruscaglia)

Transits of a lateral gaze.
Three artists from different generations come together along the high road in Renato Bruscaglia’s Dictionary of Engraved Light. There is a timeless approach in this refined plaquette, four precious gems sparkle at various intaglio ‘distances’.
The horizon is seen from below, from above from within the earth, it takes shape in the mirror of the slab; a journey of the morsel between earth and sky.
A tribute to Renato Bruscaglia takes shape for the faithful followers of this feeling, which aims at the hidden secret of emotion, through the suggestions of repetition. Nothing to do with the improvised efficiency of performative civilisation. Cassar excavates the metal to understand the physicality of the work, Fraternali guides the probe into the inner world and recreates the experience of living, Caruso weaves a dense web for the most distilled experience of light.
A harmonious, refined and disciplined liaison to celebrate Renato Bruscaglia and the music of his timeless landscape.

No concession to the complacency of signs and forms, these recesses arise from the authors’ exclusive silent and severe feeling, within the large measure of the landscape, in a minute space of zinc and copper (G. Turria).

This art edition is available at the l’Archivio Bruscaglia in Urbino.