«The idea of a solely audible vision

surfaces in the Hebrew tradition, amongst the gleams of biblical theophany, with the paradoxical expression "and all the people saw the voices"... (Ex. 20.18.). The vision of the voice corresponds, both in biblical imagery and in the artistic mold, to a murky dimness thickened by successive waves of shadows. The attention awakens and the space expands, while objects spread out until they become a void. The loss of consistency enhances the subtle essence of things - a secret process that only artistic rarefaction can allude to. ...

Art is  thus transformed into a longing fot boundaries, a nostalgia that manifest itself in its constant recurrence - which redeems the ordinary and saturates silence - under the semblance of an unexpressed premonition. Like an inadequate mirror, it is an enclosed space to be conceived as a shred of the sky projected onto the earth,

an anticipation of complicity with the divine.»


Giulio Busi.


(in: Guggenheim Public, an on-going colloquium, Venezia 1997)

Guggenheim Foundation, Venice, Palazzo Venier dei leoni,

18 December 1996; evening.

«Expectation is in the air, somewhat disengaged; some of us are not yet aware of Claudio's imminent performance. First, he will play a romantic melody, then Bach, downstair in the library. Claudio seems tense, charged up. When he plays, he feels the space around him and everyone is caught in a vortex. Giulio suggested the word "vortex", as he was left entranced by Bach's last jig. We all go upstair, around Calder's mobile. There lies another cello, a peculiar one, antique, with five strings. Claudio plays a fragment of his composition for Peggy G.

Nothing is recorded. Either you are present or you will miss it entirely. We are there. At the outset and the end of the composition, Claudio drums his fingers on the cello. In the midst, he chants, he expresses feelings with his voice.

                                         We are scattered about the hall. Subtle sounds come from the other rooms. Antonietta slowly paces the adjacent room, she seems to draw circles as she moves. Maybe the others are moving as well. Pucci cuddles herself with pleasure in her fur. At times, I even close my eyes. No words are needed. Anita knows it too, as she sees herself in Claudio's encounter with contemporaneity... Someone (Carlo?) expresses his envy at Claudio's ability to be enraptured in his instrument, in his music. He is obviously giving voice to a common feeling. Antonio scribbles something on bits of paper. I find the following discussion quite uninteresting. I wish we were silent. I look around me at Fiora's purse, hand-printed velvet with gold designs.»


Simonetta Bondoni.

(in Guggenheim Public, an on-going colloquium, Venezia 1997)