Art is “VIVA” (alive), but it does not speak to us. For a long time silenced by an oppressive and ghetto-like system against diversity – a sexual, ethnic, social diversity, but also a diversity of thought, vision, language – today it is further stifled by the acrimonious murmur of accusations, blame and polemics, which rarely try to climb the comforting borders of privilege and to glance at the other side of the wall.
Outside: there is an organized world that travels by different times and rhythms, which are anomalous compared to our quiescence. There are eccentric aesthetics, experimental languages, non-aligned narratives, able to shed light on the creaking gears of modernity, on the worn buttons of a reconstructed memory. There are images and imaginations that express the anxiety of the present. On one hand they claim the issue of contemporary artistic creation which is deeply threatened on many fronts, on the other they still launch a message of hope: they give concrete form to aspirations, ambitions and dreams, turning them into visible and worth telling expressions, able to respond to man’s yearning for his reconciliation with his own human nature.
They are different, various glances, not tied to a single point of view; they are cinematographic glances. They move freely into space and time, suggesting new paths, unusual interpretations, unexpected directions, which redeem us from predestination.
They are difficult, destabilizing, sometimes annoying, often polemical glances: upon first impression they seem inappropriate to us, and maybe we would prefer to escape from them, feeling ashamed of the king’s nakedness.
But now, more than ever, they are APPROPRIATE glances: they remind us that making films, creating art, being part of a Film Festival on Art, inviting thus to reflection, discussion, where necessary to contest, is a difficult, but wonderful act; it is a miracle, which reminds us who we are, where we come from, where we want to go. They are glances that speak to us, and make us feel alive.