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Bianca and her opposite_MARZIA MIGLIORA

Marzia Migliora 2007
Courtesy of Lia Rumma Gallery
Marzia Migliora
Milan, Lia Rumma
An austere and intense journey through timeless suggestions. Love and death, fear and desire, metamorphosis and decadence. Walking through symbolic and conceptual thresholds, we stumble onto the enigma of a bride corrupted by a dark mysterious fluid…
Bianca is a liquid apparition, an electronic epiphany wide open on a wall. She stands, timeless, never moving, squeezed in a tailleur of the purest white, holding a bouquet of white roses. The emptiness in front of it cannot be deciphered: it is the eye of the public, the camera lens, a floating desire, an impending doom. Bianca is portrayed by the artist Marzia Migliora (Alessandria, 1972; currently based in Turin), a guest of Milanese Lia Rumma with her new project “Bianca e il suo Contrario” (“Bianca and her opposite”). Migliora weaves the infinitesimal tale of a pure presence, a cold bride with a literary flavour. The movie – projected in actual size to magnify the artifice of the mise en scène – describes a state of waiting, the momentary threshold to each rite of passage, each initiation. No word is spoken on stage: only a heart-rending choir sung by the Compagnia del Balletto Civile fills the air. The threat is behind the corner though, like the abyss that opens on the defining line of any passion. Following its obstinate project of decay, Time mortifies and vivifies bodies, places, events. Bianca’s silhouette has now become an unstable container and becomes black. A dark liquid seethes over the image, the colour white opens to its opposite, the energy of this passing becomes nearly a contagion, or new nourishing. It is comparatively easy to figure out how this metastasis of colour is a clear symbolic evocation of a Death that threatens Eros and nails everyone to the fate of cancellation. After a three minutes static shot, nothing remains of all that white.  A straight line departs from the movie; the other two installations unfold from it in the axial geometry of an austere space. Lying on the floor, the ceramic models of two Neolithic skeletons recently found by archaeologists in Mantua lightly touch each other in a funereal embrace. The bodies are in the exact position they were found in: the whole shape now becomes a symbol for the timeless foedus of Love, the hug of their entwined limbs expresses that sense of infinite union that annihilates the barriers between life and death. “Death went back to bad, hugged the man, and without really understanding what was happening, the sleepless one felt her lids slowly closing. The next day, nobody died”: the title of the opera is a literary fragment, a poetic infiltration from the pages of Death with Interruptions by José Saramago. The themes tackled by the Portuguese writer – immortality as a misfortune, the terror and the hope for the end, the fear of passing a geographic border that restores the undying order of things – find effective visual counterpoints in the installation.  The concept of “passage” also returns insistently. An arch of light shines on the gallery ceiling; it is inspired by the traditional Italian decorative street lighting used for religious holidays. Framed by flower motifs, the word everyman recalls the latest novel by Philip Roth, a narrative lunge through tales of death, old age, human decay. The image of the “threshold” epitomizes the idea of passing away as the necessary destiny of humankind. A rigorous project from the artist from Piedmont, who is able to give back with the usual emotional intensity the mystery of an existential state that cannot be avoided.