Sospeso nel moto con addebito di vuoto, the project by Guglielmo Castelli and Fabio Cherstich, takes shape as an inclined surface crossing the Church of San Carlo in Cremona, transforming this deconsecrated space once again and suggesting something that looks more like a skateboard ramp than a stage set.

The large cyclorama rising from the floor to become a continuous backdrop is not only a visual element, but a direction. It is a line that guides the gaze and suggests constant movement, as if everything were destined to slide. The painted silhouettes seem to lose stability, pulled downward, suspended in a precarious balance that recalls the moment when a trick has not yet landed — or is about to fail.

Castelli works precisely on this threshold. His figures never truly fall, but they never stop either: they remain in balance, deformed by movement, like bodies inhabiting a curve. In this sense, the work does not represent falling; it constructs it. It makes it walkable.

Around it, the Baroque-inspired movable skies amplify this feeling. They do not create a stable space, but an unstable depth, made of layers that shift and continuously redefine themselves. It is a space that changes as you move through it, just like a ramp that reads differently depending on the speed and the angle from which you approach it.

The performative intervention — with choir, strings, and references extending as far as John Cage — adds another layer: sound as rhythm, as the inner tempo of the ramp. The performers appear and disappear, crossing the space without fixing it, leaving traces rather than presences.

But it is in its “resting” form that the work truly becomes clear. Once no longer activated, it becomes a space to move through freely, where the public walks among images and scenic architectures without a mandatory direction. There is no longer a distinction between those who look and those who cross: every step becomes a line, every detour a possibility.