Preview: Rudy Cremonini. Anatomy of Absence

The paintings of the exhibition draw us into private, intimate settings. Figures recline on sofas, empty deckchairs wait in a garden, flamingos appear behind elegant barriers, while outside, the sunlight can be almost blinding. At first, these scenes seem quiet and familiar, shaped by moments of leisure, comfort, and retreat. Yet beneath their apparent calm lies a subtle sense of unease. Rudy Cremonini is interested in the fragile balance between protection and freedom, and in the ways comfort and security can gradually become forms of confinement.

This ambiguity is closely connected to Rudy Cremonini’s way of working. Without preliminary drawings, he begins directly on the canvas with highly diluted oil paint, laying down transparent areas of color and tentative forms. As the painting develops, contours blur and colors flow into one another, while fluid transitions meet thicker traces of paint and matte surfaces alternate with glossy passages. Figures remain recognizable, yet their bodies may appear distorted, dissolve, or merge with their surroundings. Rudy Cremonini deliberately keeps the relationship between figuration and abstraction in motion.

Color plays a key role in creating the particular atmosphere of these works. Muted browns, pinks, and sepia tones meet pale greens, cool blues, or violet. Bodies, objects, and spaces often emerge through subtle shifts within closely related families of color rather than sharp contrasts. Rudy Cremonini’s preference for ambiguous colors avoids fixed definitions and leaves room for different ways of seeing. Interiors and gardens, fabric, skin, and vegetation seem to flow into one another, giving the scenes a soft, almost physical presence.

Within these seductive surfaces, however, everyday objects begin to take on a different weight. Sofas, deckchairs and ornamental interiors belong to spaces designed for comfort, yet they also suggest withdrawal from the world beyond them. Leisure appears suspended, almost ritualized: bodies remain still, empty seats wait to be occupied, and sunlight is filtered before it enters the protected interior. Even the flamingos, beautiful and cared for behind barriers, evoke the tension at the heart of the exhibition. Safety and privilege offer shelter, but they can also limit the horizon.

This tension between ease and confinement also extends into Rudy Cremonini’s new ceramic sculptures. Nude bodies recline, prop themselves up, or rest with their hands behind their heads. Their poses recall people relaxing in the warmth of the sun, while their organic forms and muted colors echo the paintings. There is a quiet humor to these figures, but their stillness also resonates with the sense of suspension that runs through the exhibition.

The poetry of Rudy Cremonini’s works emerges from these contradictions. Beauty and unease, intimacy and isolation, protection and restriction remain delicately intertwined. Nothing is entirely fixed: a body dissolves into its surroundings, a peaceful interior becomes a place of retreat, a sunlit garden seems both inviting and strangely distant. Rudy Cremonini leaves these tensions unresolved, creating images that draw us in through their sensuality while quietly unsettling the comfort they appear to offer.