There are various ways in which artists try to explain their art and convey its message, making it simple for greater enjoyment or more complex for a different and more specific reason.
Among these, there are also those who decide not to explain, but to instead let their imagination and emotion work: Mirko Gessaga is one of these, and he does it with method and irony.
He doesn't speak, he acts; he does not create, he explodes; he uses matter and a movement of tension to produce something that is the result of a choice (material, colour, dynamic) but also of chance - not to be confused with chaos.
There is nothing right or wrong, there is nothing that cannot be done. In his works, everything is allowed and nothing is excluded. He almost seems to want to give space to innumerable possible Kierkegaardian worlds and thoughts, creating a feeling of being overwhlemed in the face of the infinite.
And in the face of the Infinite and that feeling of lost control, what is left to man apart from romantic fascination? It's choice - that's what defines him.
And this is where the dialogue with the viewer comes into play, invited by the artist to recreate an order in that disorder that has been intentionally created and which, in reality, is an invitation to recognise oneself, to choose, to determine oneself.
It is no coincidence that this technique is so impactful, and almost violent: the explosion of the firecracker (which is used to disperse the colour) destabilises, confuses, attracts attention, brings us back to something terrifying and fascinating at the same time, something that shakes us from within and provokes an undeniable reaction which the viewer must gather in himself, with his own strength.
It's a game in which you are completely immersed, despite knowing that you're being manipulated. A fascination that goes beyond reason, uniting the adult with one's inner child, touching dormant feelings because even knowing it's not real cannot prevent you from being enchanted.