Mood Campari
Dimensions of the Work: 250X150X20 CM
The Theater of Appearance (Homage to Depero) by Robert Phillips
When an artist like Stefano Bressani confronts an iconic work and undertakes its interpretation, one must decide to relinquish the paradigm that binds a work of art to a fixed aesthetic encapsulated in a specific historical moment. One must resist the temptation to frame that fleeting instant of becoming, frozen in an image, which, within the endless flow of perception, would in itself be ephemeral.
Bressani’s work here seeks to represent, in a form of theater of appearance, an aesthetic ideal, embodied by an iconic piece of graphic art and illustration from the past century: the famous Omino Campari.
It is a fact that any product, when presented in a non-functional manner beyond contemplation and pleasure, can appear as a work of art. Around it, a concept can always be built that reinforces its meaning. It is precisely around this ideal concept that the seed is planted, giving rise to the flower of Bressani’s work: to think of the subject as part of a theatricality, a staged performance.
To make this theatrical game work, however, it is necessary to delve deeply into the creative act at the heart of the represented work, and this is exactly what Stefano perceives and, above all, knows how to construct with his very personal style. His work thus aims to give voice to volumes—excuse the apparent incongruity—his Omino is no longer merely a representation but becomes an object to wear, a theater of an idea.
In his playful approach—and in this, Bressani is a true master—he stages complexity around an ideal of perfect balance, which varies in each of us depending on culture, attention, age, and even mood.
A wearable work built around himself, almost as if to appropriate and nourish oneself with the underlying concept. It is a definitive response to various “modern” impulses that, however, first influenced, then converted, and finally consecrated, the supremacy of the soul over conscious mind—the victory of creativity over calculation, felt by the few privileged who recognize it and have the courage, or opportunity, to follow it.
In the end, the only satisfying conclusion is to understand that, for Stefano Bressani, creating art is an indispensable need, a vocation, a motivation so profound that it compels a human being to neglect everything else to obey the call of this hidden force, which invaded his mind from the first awakening, dragging him into an attic or a basement, plunging him into a universe entirely his own—useless yet fulfilling—to give substance to a dream, color to creativity, form to a necessity uniquely his. To create art, his art, is the only way to externalize his soul, to give voice and substance to an irresistible drive.
Letter to Giovanni Gastel by Stefano Bressani
This one is for you, Gio’, because that’s what everyone called you—your closest friends, but also everyone you drew in with your disarming and empathetic simplicity.
Kisses and hugs were your first calling card, a memory of your essence that was at once shy and solemn.
It was easy to play the game of life with you, and many were captivated by your words, passionate and full of experience.
That day, entering your studio felt effortless. The desire to know you was so strong it overcame any barrier of reverence, allowing me to feel like an old friend. And even if I knew, in that moment, it wasn’t entirely true, I felt at home. Being near you made many feel at ease.
We exchanged one of my sculptures, which took its place among the immense library of images on those wooden shelves—and who knows where it rests now—against your photograph, the first of many… almost seventy for my project, to which you contributed with delight and admiration for its intent and sincerity.
Perhaps, in the subtle melancholy I read between the lines of your poetry, I had opened a tiny door to the real you, not the public figure. After all, I too am a “fellow of smiles,” built of tenderness and hugs, always, with everyone. And perhaps it was there, halfway along two different paths, that we met—paths I never imagined could converge to create something together.
Yes, because together, ideas merge, visions are shared, and things imagined become reality.
After that first photograph, which I guard jealously as a cherished talisman, I had the audacity to ask you for the one everyone admires today.
Remember? It was late in the evening, and my message read:
“Giò, would you like to support me in a little madness?”
…I sent you a photo of the Depero puppet sipping a Campari Soda, that very one, and I added little else. I told you, too, that for once I didn’t want to be the one dressing the artworks, but that I wanted the artworks to dress the artist—and that I wanted them to dress me, for the first time as a human billboard in early twentieth-century America.
I know it might have been hard to grasp my intentions at first, but I think you sensed that it wasn’t trivial.
The first time you held my Head—the one from our exchange—it was as if it were a child. You cradled it with gentle curiosity, and with eyes full of light, running your fingers across the textured fabric, you said, “It’s beautiful…”
Today, there’s no need to recount everything, because from that everything, so much more has grown. I reread that message and realize that the mission of an artist is a duty to life itself. And in all the work I dedicate to you—the work in which I hoped, believed, rejoiced, and even failed, only to rise again—lies the ultimate testament to friendship, both toward oneself and toward others.
We had laughed about how I would ever wear that heavy armor. I feared I couldn’t, yet I wanted to triumph. Then came the shoes and the challenge of solving all the problems, which magically resolved through passion, dedication, patience, and skill…
Today, I wish I could wear them for you, to laugh and joke about what, in your photograph—the second part of the diptych—would have represented one of the greatest challenges: holding together a Frankenstein of fabric. But we would have managed it together.
Today, in front of all these people and those who will encounter these fabrics in the future, I leave the smile of imagining you here, sharing these moments with us. Moments that, though tinged with sadness, reveal the beauty of your extraordinary essence.
For this reason, once again, as is right in my world, I toast to you, my friend, with the red of that Campari Soda we never had the pleasure of drinking together, to honor this project.
The red of passion we shared from the start, through words and glances, for those who dream and strive to reach their stars.
That photograph, those shoes, designed and made to support the sculpture, now lie in my studio, and the image of me you were meant to photograph lives only as a silhouette in memory.
After so much work, paused by your departure, I have found the strength to complete this immense project—a challenge renewed for you, for us…
And so today, that museum-quality work remains with me alone, a constant reminder of the importance of embraces—the ones you so generously gave to everyone.
Your Ste
as you would have signed it
September 6, 2021
