Until tomorrow, October 2, you can find Venerus at Spazio Serra. Not a stage, not a setlist, but a radical experiment of presence and resistance: four days spent inside the glass walls of Spazio Serra, in Milan, where the artist will write, erase, and begin again without pause.
The gesture—though distancing itself from music as we know it—becomes a sort of visual score that composes and dissolves before the eyes of those who decide to visit Venerus in Lancetti. The transparent walls become both sheet music and boundary, in a cycle that repeats the very essence of making art: creating, destroying, rebuilding. There is no climax, no ending, only a continuous flow that erases the concept of beginning and end.
For those who stop, the spectacle is hypnotic. Venerus doesn’t play music, but composes with his body and with time, transforming the routine of a railway passage into a suspended act. Whoever comes into contact with his performance witnesses a kind of silent concert, where every brushstroke becomes a note, every erasure a silence, every restart a refrain that never ends.
The choice to live in public space, exposed day and night, is an integral part of the work: there is no backstage, no private realm—only reality. His daily life becomes a spectacle, vulnerability becomes language. It is a way of laying bare the artist, not through voice, but through physical and emotional resistance, before anyone who chooses to watch.
Venerus thus transforms the performance into a collective ritual. It is not just about observing, but about sharing a suspended time, entering into dialogue with an act that explores fragility and hope as if they were instruments. The audience is spectator and witness, but also part of the most intimate and radical concert the artist has ever proposed.
