Arcangelo

By Veronica Zanardi

Following the exhibition dedicated to Mario Raciti, the Museo Butti|Contemporanea now presents a selection of works—a small retrospective—by a significant figure in contemporary painting: Arcangelo. This exhibition traces a path that, though parallel, moves along different trajectories.

Arcangelo emerged on the Italian art scene in the 1980s, a period deeply influenced by the Transavanguardia movement. However, from the very beginning, his artistic exploration diverged from this contemporary trend, taking an entirely different direction.

His deep, almost visceral connection to his homeland ties him to other artistic choices. The works on display bear witness to this bond, inviting viewers to discover how it manifests itself through themes and materials that have been central to his research. These elements, imbued with the force and inevitability of deeply rooted connections, are entirely devoid of sentimental softness.

Rightly so, Gramiccia defines Arcangelo’s personal sensibility as “Odyssean.”

Odysseus, often seen as the indomitable hero constantly in motion, driven by an insatiable thirst for knowledge and the desire for the unknown, reveals a different nature upon closer examination. He is not the most powerful, the strongest, or the most authoritative among the warriors of Troy. Instead, the defining trait that Homer attributes to him—one that sets him apart—is his “patience.”. Patience is the ability to experience passions while mastering pathos. Though Odysseus appears restless in his journeys—whether imposed or chosen—it is, in fact, the world around him that moves. Paradoxically, his motion is internal, reflective. His drive is to attain a contemplative stillness, one that finds its fulfillment in a small island—his homeland—where he can process everything that has happened in distant lands.
Odysseus does not move, or when he does, his movements are minimal and essential. He remains motionless inside the wooden horse he conceived. He is nearly immobile, tied down, as the sirens sing their maddening song, yet he does not struggle once he has passed their test, nor does he question the power of their voices. His final journey, the one recounted by Dante, is undertaken in pursuit of the absolute stillness “beyond the sun,” with the awareness that such stillness is what enables universal movement.
An “Odyssean” sensibility, then, is one that favors minimal motion, a patience that reworks the matter of one’s native soil—the blinding white of lime, the coal-black nights of the South. It is the ability to process external turmoil in interior silence, to ruminate and create something new—an artwork that, however small, changes the world.

I was fortunate to collaborate with Arcangelo, sharing a year of teaching with him. It was a fruitful bond, a period of growth: on one side, the offering of didactic skill; on the other, the force of a deeply personal emotional transmission—just as personal as Arcangelo’s painting itself. Our collaboration thrived precisely on this “Odyssean” sensibility, marked by constant, daily progress, discoveries, and reflections that continually opened new paths for artistic exploration. It left a significant and lasting imprint on me, made all the more tangible through the awareness of this dynamic interiority.

An artist’s life is often structured in cycles. This small yet comprehensive exhibition gathers works spanning from the early 1990s to the most recent years.

From the Pianeti cycle and beyond, the subject remains the land of origin: Irpinia, whose essence demands to be seen, almost imposes itself. The canvas becomes a sun-bleached sheet, the colors those of the parched landscape, where rain turns the earth into thick mud clinging to one’s feet. From the stroke to the color, everything is spiritual.
In the Misteri cycle, browns and blacks return. Catholic-pagan rituals intertwine with African initiation ceremonies. The violent, sacred red of blood links the flagellants of southern Italian processions to the blood daily shed in the savanna. Nature’s primal forces unite people across time and geography. The steps of the dance and the procession coincide, and black merges coal with African nights.

Arcangelo preserves the sense of epiphany.

In recent years, once again, his homeland exerts its gravitational pull on the artist. His works are not mere evocations of ancient relics; rather, they embody the pulse of an ancestral soul that defies the tyranny of time.

The crocus flowers remain still among the stones of the ancient Appian Way.

Some of these works evoke an unexpected, muffled sound behind us—something rising from the depths of the earth, almost like the last echo of a primordial clamor, perhaps a forewarning of something long past yet now indecipherable.

After the initial spontaneous emotion comes the time for contemplation—to absorb, process, and allow what we have seen to settle within us.