At CHEZPLINIO there is a time machine

3 years ago

We are in the south of Milan, more precisely in the Corvetto neighborhood. Here, in the middle of the industrial zone, there is an exhibition space that never disappoints in terms of artistic extravagance. It is CHEZPLINIO, “a failed project. Born without money and destined to fail soon,” as the about of the site ironically reads. A few exhibitions ago it was a police car completely turned upside down by artist Nøne Futbol Club that was the centerpiece of the former warehouse, but today it is a flying camping tent and a time machine that are the protagonists. This is the exhibition MEINE MUTTER DAMMI CENTO LIRE (Mom, give me a hundred lire) by German artist Malte Bartsch, which opened last Friday, October 13, and can be visited until November 12. But let’s better understand what it is all about.

Mom, give me a hundred lire: the song of precariousness

Without a doubt, the one at CHEZPLINIO is an exhibition that at first glance definitely makes one smile and entertain. In reality, the theme is cruder than one might think. Irony, as well as symbolism, play a key role in terms of language. Reading CHEZPLINIO’s interview with Malte Bartsch, one quickly realizes why. Like his works, the artist himself expresses himself with sarcasm toward contemporaneity, revealing its most realistic aspect. In other words, Bartsch doesn’t season anything, doesn’t embellish speeches with glittering frills, but speaks about reality in a direct way with the support of evocative images and symbols, today universal and able to communicate with anyone. Let’s talk about the tent for example, the first work that jumps out at you upon entering the space. Bartsch uses the romantic symbolism of the camping tent to turn it completely upside down and in every sense. In fact, the work Zelt consists of a camping tent connected to a helium cylinder that allows it to float through the air in an upside-down position. The ideals of passion and adventure are replaced here by the sense of imbalance and precariousness characteristic of youthful dreams.

The work, dating back to 2014, is still sadly relevant. In a city like Milan – which in the past year has been witnessing student mobilizations against the high cost of living, led precisely by students camping in tents outside universities – it is charged with an even more direct and effective communicative force. In this sense, it is interesting to note the title of the exhibition, Meine mutter dammi cento lire, which refers to the song by Le Mondine. The famous folk song tells the story of a girl who, despite her mother’s contrary opinion, decides to embark on her journey to America during which she will die by drowning. Here the theme of youth precariousness – hand in hand with that of emigration – returns, or rather, indirectly anticipates what the exposition needs to communicate.

Living or showcase?

The precariousness evoked earlier is undoubtedly fertile ground for social networks. The latter offer young people a chance to beautify their existences in the eyes of others by sharing their most interesting experiences. Let’s explain it further. Malte Bartsch with the work Time Machine reasons about the contemporary paradox concerning “the time we spend telling or proving to others that we have witnessed or done something, which apparently becomes more important than the very act of doing it.” With this work, the artist mocks this concept by constructing a series of time machines placed in different places around the world and linked together. By pressing a button, the visitor receives an actual receipt certifying his presence in the exhibition. A tangible proof of his passage and, at the same time, a work of art that reminds us of our obsession with exhibitionism.

Are we able to take risks like the agave?

This exhibition journey ends with a question related to the work Battery Pack, “Is it worth it? Even if it goes wrong?” referring to the risk that underlies a journey, a change, a dream. The artist responds with a natural metaphor, using the agave. “The agave is a plant that can live 30 years or more, but produces only one flower in its entire life.” – reads CHEZPLINIO’s critical text – “To do this, the plant accumulates all its energy, represented here by a Tesla battery cover, and then expends it all at once, literally exploding into its flower. Then it dies. However, at that moment, it leaves the most precious legacy: the basal shoots from which new plants will grow. In that great, though lethal, endeavor, he plays everything he has. From that unhappy end begins regeneration.” So returning to our initial question, is it worth it? “Perhaps yes, if you think about the agave, which bets and spends all its resources to make that one flower and finally to give birth to new plants.”