How can we define the world of Nazareno, tactile and vibrating, made of pure dynamism? How can we define this mini-universe in constant search of signs, remissions that redraw a condensed primordial gesture, like an alpha full of heat and light? How can we define it, in its radical freedom, how can we understand it without caging it?
Nazareno is essentially a poet of space. Not of pure space, for sure, but of space governed by a deus ludens, who makes it shrink and grow, as if in search of the giants of antiquity and the provinces of Lilliput. A poet of space within a seasonal, retractable and expansive universe: variations in the scale and population density of the objects that feed on space, that discover themselves in space and blur into it. A space of objects, where, from beginning to end, new strange powers emerge. Occupations of territory of various forms, sometimes reserved, at others wisely dispersed. Always in a toing and froing movement, on a band of convergence or acentric, displaced, spilling out of the frame, in unexpected emergency exits.
The artist practices a kind of playful theology, a legacy in which nothing is lost: before it is transmuted into the poetry of space, according to a combinatory logic of chance and necessity, images bearing limpid superimposed modulations, with swift shifts of rhythm and meaning, following a recurrent fluctuation of meaning and diversity of concepts. And even the lapidary titles, created by Nazareno, which resemble hard yet smooth rock carvings.
Nazareno is a poet of space, of nostalgia for patterns and myths from a past that devours everything like a sphinx. But the secret may lie in the arrows that thirst for the future. Nazareno’s work is inscribed with a rare sensibility in this time out of time pining for the future.