EMILIO ALBERTI SON OF THE SUN
by Pierre Restany
I have always thought that painting was like planning infinite travels fragment by fragment through the space and the time of the imaginary thought. I have always thought that the painter was the writer of memory, of the sensory-visual physical memory.
Emilio Alberti would be the synthetic illustration of these intuitions mine. He is the journalist of color, is the traveller-writer of mind, with the single difference that the dimension of time that Alberti suggests to us seems to have neither beginning nor ending. It's perhaps a question of years, but light years instead.
Alberti he is the man of the telegraphic rainbow, the man who thinks the color in its lightning run for the recollection born in the same moment of the emotion or the perception. This painting is at the instinctive search of the free space, of the deep holes, the fissures, all the possible openings. The window has had a special dimension in the albertian way, but always as frame, as formal pretest to the overbearing and irresistible rhythm of a space breath, wind of freedom and wind of poetry.
The color for Alberti is the language of the day and the night, the moon and the sun. The sun is first of all light source, but also the sun is the same body of the light, its substance and its purpose. It is not a case that is the sun as structural thematic to inspire the last series of works of the artist.
The sun as substance of the light is fragmented by itself in anatomical elements: beams, sidereal shadows, pieces of stars or comets, flashing apparitions. So the sun lends itself to an operation of anatomical surgery like every kind of being. The painter have to describe to us the anatomy of the sun and to clear the mystery of the light through its shadows, its angles-shot, and this is an fundamental-elementary pictorial speech.
Emilio Alberti has assumed it with the great semplicity that suit the essentiality of the argument.
(From the calalogue published on the occasion of the exibition "Incoherent Eternity", by New Press, Como, 1991)
THE EMILIO ALBERTI'S "REAL TIME"
by Giorgio Seveso
As a vast and articulate mosaic of marks and traces, indications and symptoms, Emilio Alberti uses painting and sculpture, joke and engagement, laugh and melancholy in order to speak to the world, in image shape, about its meditations.
It's a difficult task and at the same time natural that he has been assumed. Difficult because sometimes ungrateful. The today's collective sensibility by now is accustomed at simple speeches, at elementary levels of the imagination. But it is also a natural task, because the role of the artist in every time is just this: is just this his precarious destiny and his choice, in every moment renews.
A libertarian role, extraordinarily stranger to any rule, to any custom, habit or communicative tradition... A space of fundamental freedom, faithful only to own reasons, that even thought every wariness is successful, and still he succeeds, to exceed bravely the more various opportunismes and the intercrosses vetoes of History.
And, also, the courage of this forty-years old artist is the courage without remission and justification that belongs to the poets. An obliged courage, rendered necessary by the same nature of the truth that encircles us. A courage that energetically prevails to the attention and that intrigues, that involve completely the not hurried audience, as Paul Eluard wrote, " the truth of the poets is like the philosophical truth. It prevailes with the facts, the life, the reason without compromises: with the burning reason!".
In order to say about him and his work of these years, it can be of some clarity to remember a citation of Savinio, the painter and writer brother of Giorgio De Chirico, of whom Alberti has often cited thoughts and works in occasion of previous extibitions. "Art - he wrote - is the happier solution to the problem of the happiness". And in a world like ours indeed the formidable utopy within this idea becomes more than ever topical, more than ever "burning". The tesseras of his mosaic, within this undertaking, they are made up in a recognizable plan, in a concrete and gotten passionate project.
What he comes realizing in the solitudine of his study and his thoughts guards, more than a metaphor, more than stylistic or novellistic definable images, the concrete sign of a series of tearing intuitions. It's a suite of memories and ideas, objects, shapes and colors that answers to the clamorous and evocative staging of a great show of soul.
Just as made Savinio, besides, as well Alberti uses the medium of writing in parallel to devising and the manual realization of these works. Indeed, I should say that writing, painting and sculpture are for him equal parts, or different ways but equivalents, of the same speech: of the same mise en scène about which I said before.
Like by a kind of simultaneity of reflection and action, the image have life at the center of a confluence of stimuli and highly immaginative answers, memories and inventions that come true into the intuition that gives body to the visual representation. (…)
(From the catalogue "Emilio Alberti - Tempo reale", by the Como Culture Councillorship, Como, 1993)