VALSUGANA VILLAGE SPACE Klien " 
cascade "movement of love"
Mariella Martinelli: the wonder of waking dream
If the eye is not solar
How could we see the light?
WF Goethe, Farbenlehere
The color is a feeling that I live, at times, it contracts and expands. Could make beats like a heart that is contained in the experience of the world. It 's the heart that is sprouting all knowledge, similar to the ancient Egyptians thousands of years in anticipation of the warm breath of the Romantics who saw in the color of the physical expression of a spiritual entity. On the same line of a staff completely renovated play chords Mariella Martinelli, playing on and with the notes: each one of them corresponds to a path. There is the figurative and, turning the corner, we find that star timid signs of pictorial alchemy want to be feeling. And then peeps expressionism brought over every dimension of recognition. All, however, are strictly tributaries of a river that lingers all the way and the duration of his life. While sea water is usually still there when the storm and winds around itself never move, that the river is a dynamic force that brings with it the passage of time, marks the scans of the space widening and narrowing, know that he founded a quiet alternating rapids foaming. And inside, as if on a boat, sometimes swimming, there is the artist. Every trip is a quest that takes upon himself and within himself. So when is the time to prepare the pack, to decide what to put in it, in turn changes the content, as well as style, as well as language. Because each trip, being basically and essentially mythical, needs its symbols. She oscillates between two apparently opposite ways, but that form the structure of his works: go forward or retreat into himself. In other words, choose the search or wrong.
Most of the time follows a mixed track, which is perhaps the most vivid, prolific, significant although, apparently, could create false leads in the public or those unfamiliar with the meandering paths of Mariella Martinelli. Dominated by the image that permeates all of his inner being, the artist sets off looking for the image outside of herself, desperately scouring every form in the sensible world, from Africa to Mòcheni landscapes, love the islands evanescent fields of anxiety when you wake up - that is the awakening of the soul - until you come back, always and inevitably, the temple of the soul. At the same time this process is a form of wandering. The wandering is the lateral movement - not an end, a goal, a purpose - with the only way to escape from his psyche. Impossible, so the support of the artist is always there ready to welcome the inevitable ebb in the vicious circle of unanswered questions. So aside
bulkheads referred, this art strolling back and forth between the self and the world. The latter feeds on a daily basis, the first is the mark that we must work around whenever you have to think about the return of the pendulum.
To do this, our artist painting a sweet and gentle decline, never violent, even though the colors explode sometimes think themselves trying to overcome the frame. Or, sometimes, implode, choosing to escape reassuring to the heart itself, instead of the crossroads and security. A color that is deposited mostly on paper, by coarse why this support is in itself a landscape and a body.
The color for the artist is something more than the succession of chemical pigments that are combined, by celebrating the mystical marriage. Or that are subject to rules that are too rigid the primary and complementary sequences and intakes, thus imprisoning the same sense of creating and doing.
As our view sees with absolute clarity colored objects only when they are illuminated by the sun, like the soul, which reaches a clear understanding of things only when they are illuminated by the light of truth and being.
tables are icons of the soul. There they fought the War of the Worlds, you let yourself be enchanted by the wonder of the female child. The forms do not always act that sets out - deliberately - to recognize. Forms that offer on the table where he performs the sacrifice of one's being: on this table do not always spread, how prepared is not always the canvas or paper, are silhouetted against the instincts of the heart, the soul, but also the physical . The gesture is a form of wandering of the mind: it lets go of believing that he is under the auspices of improvisation and the unconscious. In reality there is always a law that regulates the archetypal everything. The chaos is never that, but apparent.
If we make a combination with the work of the field could be called in the original chaos, black and magma, of Genesis. That chaos of fire, air, earth, water, from which came the world organized, complete, systematic. A chaos of the world but can not do without and, recurrently, such as phases of the life of the black goddess Kali, the Vedic Isis, he came back to get whip again and regenerate the ocean of milk.
The mind is a stream without banks crossed by flames that are lost. It should draw a circle, a frame, a templum in order to serve the artist, to use energy channeling it into signs, shapes, colors and volumes. This gives rise to these works, real volcanoes. Do not be betrayed by the lightness of the paper, dall'impalpabilità sometimes the color of the sign dall'esiguità. These elements are never arrogant, they are there to be declined along with life. And transparency can help us understand how the air is the true master, with his friend light. A dry desires and dreams, the other light paths. And the subject, even when peeps the figurative element, desiring bodies are made of natural, vegetable, mineral, human. Elusive as ghosts. Ethereal as sleep and dreaming.
Fiorenzo Degasperi
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