As I write, there is a cacophony of noise. It is the weekend, and there are 3 groups grilling out on the green square which I live. And they are all blasting their own music. Each music is coherent in itself but together it is noise, I hear no melody. There is beat and drive, but a song escapes me. Compilation upon combination makes the singular vanish- I know no longer what a single note is.

This sculpture of three parts, designed by Antonio Aricò, is the beauty of simplicity- of the singular. In a world or many, these singularities of plaster and compacted paper stand to tell us how loud, how complex we’ve become. And yet we might not even notice. It is the mono, the singular that stands alone, that is necessary to understand the complex. If complexity is observed only against other complexities, then it might become viewed as simple. Loud becomes ‘quiet’ through ever expanding degrees of loudness.

The cone, the triangle, the feather, are quiet through and through. They are whole in and of themselves. There is no ‘else’- they stand only as a backdrop for imagination. Humans for millennia have seen the real in the abstract. It is what pushes us in our interpretations. Can you see the dragon in the tree? Do the feathers for you, a flock make?

©  A. Aricò

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