Muse Consulting | Capsule Shanghai: Rudy Cremonini "Four Minutes After Sunset"

[Excerpt from Muse Consulting Weekly Selection｜Lisson Gallery: Masatomo Anno "Feet on the Ground," De Yutang Gallery: Chen Han "Between Gaps," Capsule Shanghai: Rudy Cremonini "Four Minutes After Sunset". Click LINK for the full article]

 

Capsule Shanghai presents Rudy Cremonini's solo exhibition Four Minutes After Sunset, showcasing his latest paintings and ceramic sculptures. The exhibition revolves around the ancient Greek concept of Kairos, capturing the fleeting moments when day transitions into night-where everything blurs and miracles unfold. Dividing the gallery into four rooms with distinct shade of color, Cremonini visually translates the nuanced and transitory emotions within these four minutes after sunset, inviting viewers to step into a space where light and shadow intertwine, initiating an exploration of self and the external world through individual perception and imagination.

 

Lines drift along the edges,
light entwines with the void.
A whisper of hesitation-yet clarity unfolds.

Cremonini casts off knowing's weight,
lets the canvas breathe,
its silence stirred by the voice of its form.

Soft, yet unyielding.
Drifting, yet at rest.
Contours emerge from the fractured,
certainty blooms within the haze.

Like a soul adrift in shadow and glow,

 

 

Upon the stage where images gleam,
silicon beings echo a dream.
Smooth-faced specters, almost alive,
wearing the masks where humans thrive.

Algorithms weave and compare,
tracing thoughts that linger in air.
Transhuman visions, sculpting anew,
shaping a form both strange and true.

Do bionic limbs still cradle heat,
or is touch now lost in circuits discreet?
Totems of life, honeycombed bright,
patterns emerge in digital light.

The android's gaze drifts, caught in between,
data and soul-what does it mean?
Technology rises, relentless and bold,
writing new laws in logic untold.

And yet, a line, sharp and confined,
divides the real from the utopian mind.

 

Water takes no shape, nor holds a name,
a whispering rain, a fleeting flame.
Drifting through alleys in murmuring streams,
pooling in echoes of half-lit dreams.

Born in motion, yet lost in flow,
a dance of tides where memories grow.
Parties, vacations, nights untamed,
all dissolve in water's frame.

It nourishes, a mother's song,
yet swallows deep, both fierce and strong.
What shields can bind, what keeps is cage,
turning safety into wage.

Glistening ripples fade to mire,
a soft embrace, a voiceless choir.
Silent, tender, taking all,
into the deep where echoes fall.

 

Through motion, forms arise,
shaped by colors where boundaries lie.
Ceramics echo pigments,
a child emerges from waters dim. 

Man and woman, in silence lean,
reclining softly, lost between.
Fragile, passive-yet in space,
they find a quiet, weightless grace.

Like murmurs drifting, like restless waves,
meaning flickers, shifts, then fades.
Perhaps true freedom, undefined,
is but a void, perfect yet unattained. 

 

A perfect void-both call and sight,
a silent expanse, awaiting light.
If art is clarity, pure and bright,
Cremonini drifts into the night,
where meaning blurs, where shadows breathe, 
where ambiguity dares to seethe.

As themes unshackle, freely grow,
forgotten fragments start to glow.
Within them, echoes lost return,
miracles flicker, dimly burn.
And in their depths, as whispers roam,
we trace the path that leads us home.