The Mother Bride

 

 

The surrounding cloud; the splinters in the eyes. The softness of the tulle, the coldness of the marble. The chill of a death that befogs and dazzles. Veil upon veil. Folds upon folds. Wounds upon wounds. What mother would not wish to keep her child in a padded cradle? And what bride would not keep her beloved within the seal of her womb? Yes he is there now. An inert body. Nails and pincers next to the broken legs. Tools. And it’s a dirty job, that of the executioners of yesterday. A black job, this of the executioners of today. Nothing but this. Build to destroy: evil.  Because there is no difference in the emotional friction between a man taken down from the cross and one who has fallen from scaffolding. All lives precipitate in his blood. And mourning for the dead Christ turns into yet another chronicle of a death foretold. On a construction site in the suburbs or in a building in the town centre, with or without documents, consumed by fire, intoxicated by poison, burned by dust while your wife has not yet closed the door of the washing machine waiting for the dirty overalls.

In the city that, through Pergolesi, gave the most beautiful Stabat Mater in history to music and generations of arms full of dignity, Roxy in the Box puts her signature to a lighting installation where Piety and Passion come together in that unique sacred place called pain.

Anita Pepe

 

 

 

 

 

photo by Ilaria Abbiento

 

 

Museo Cappella Sansevero, Napoli.

Testo di Massimo Andrei, voce recitante Antonella Romano.
(4- 9 giugno 2013)

http://www.museosansevero.it/
http://www.meravigliarti.it/Meravigliarti/WELCOME.html