- Order now
the book by Piero Golia
D. Hunt, P. Ellis, P. Golia ,G. Politi, W. G. Thiel and others
48 col.,7 b/w
I fell for it. Halfway through The Book By Piero Golia, I felt like a fool.
Dressed in the ever-non-essential clothes of the reader of art, I was patrolling around the self-irony of Piero’s art, retracing the accounts of works, installations, performances – it’s hard to define his work, “situations” might perhaps be a good term, for someone who has made escaping military service a work of art – until there, exactly midway through the book, I caressed them. The golden pages. There are eight, irresistible, spellbinding, golden pages. And I no longer thought about anything else. Concepts, analogies, epiphanies: tabula rasa. They are so smooth, and bright. Obviously, I realised what had happened, once I’d gone back the critical distance. The instant later. The instant of the fool. He must have felt the same way, for the same infinitesimal instant, that collector who in Turin bought one of his works to make him come down from the palm tree where he was perched. Just for an instant, right before happily realising that he was part of an art “situation”. Self-irony goes hand-in-hand with contagion, inevitable, unstoppable: the goat e-scapes this time, and giggles. I fell for it, in his book. Exorbitant book, of proteiform pages and paper, of uncataloguable words, halfway between the commitment to explain and the impulse to tell, to wander. Book-theatre, at the limit, on the edge, in excess: stage of the limit. And Piero continually returns there, onto that stage, he is always on both sides of a prank, the cheerful engineer, melancholy iconoclast, glittering-anarchist, humble-primadonna: “I’m serious!”, he proclaims. The liar, the one of the paradox, finally has a face. Or does he?
Yet maybe I haven’t understood a thing. It’s not serious. I’m just sorry I ruined a surprise…
|Piero Golia is one of the most interesting contemporary young conceptual artists. He hits art columns thanks to his audacious undertakings, balancing himself on a thin line between super-manhood and self-irony, feeding some fabulous chansons de geste. Piero G. who stops a girl on the streets and convinces her to tattoo his framed portrait stating Piero My Idol on her back. Piero G. pictured together with a blonde bombshell in front of luxury hotels and Californian swimming-pools, driving his Ferrari, the new prince of Beverly Hills. Piero G. camping on a Polaroid titled Me and J. Koons. Piero G. who accepts the invitation for the biennial of Tirana, underlining that he will reach the port of Durazzo with a paddle boat, crossing the Otranto channel the reverse way as the escape routes of Albanian illegal immigrants. Piero G. that climbs up a seven meters high palm tree, threatening to come down only when someone purchases one of his art works.
Myths of contemporary art sprout and grow at breathtaking speed, are overmeasure to you, bigger than life. Works and names dominate the scene, at times risking to undergo a metamorphosis becoming puppies and toys of too colossal dimensions for whom is dedicated to their exposure, photographing, commenting, publishing or purchase.Piero Golia (1974, Naples), performer, sculptor, film-maker, lives and works in Los Angeles, CA. His work has been featured in major exhibitions, galleries and museum in Europe and USA, including MAXXI (Rome 2010), MART (Rovereto 2010), Bortolami Gallery (New York 2009), California Biennial (Orange County Museum of Arts 2008), Moscow Biennale of Contemporary Art (2007), P.S.1 (New York 2006), Serpentine Gallery, (London 2005), Performa 05, (New York 2005), Art Basel Miami Beach Art Fair (2003), Prague Biennale (2002), Tirana Biennale (2001).