Visual art is one of the most difficult to appreciate, one of the most difficult to understand.
Explaining the details of a drawing is chillingly banal. It does not and has never been part of my nature. The desperate search for why is absolutely in vain given that art is the most imperfect of imitations. Art is imitation of imitation: a faded copy (imitation) of the sensitive reality / reality perceived by our senses (therefore also imitation). (Plato's conception).
So, why not abandon ourselves to the imagination, or even to the subjectivity of our interpretation, rather than to the subjectivity of the interpretation of others?
In any case, I will make a vain attempt to demonstrate that a portrait is not just a portrait, even if even those who see L.O.V.E of Cattelan with sterile eyes will always see a "fuck you". If one is not able to abandon oneself to the interpretation of the innate artistic nature of which each of us is gifted, or even to the imagination, to the different perspective, one will never look at a representation of anti-fascism reflected in the work of Cat .
Agony given by the awareness of limits.
It petrified anyone who met his gaze. Snakes, those are the most slippery, miserable and unaware; deluded, they do nothing but crown the myth. Sentenced to life in prison for adoration. They succeed in the exact opposite of their perfidious intent.
Invincibly deadly: an oxymoron. Perseus knows he can win, without, however, ever enjoying the luxury of looking him in the eye or catching his gaze. What, then, is the taste of victory?
