Untitled c. 1960 - 1970

Curator: I’m strangely captivated by this untitled piece, circa 1960 to 1970, from Arnaldo Pomodoro. The bold linocut print feels almost... explosive. Editor: Explosive? It strikes me as more... constrained. The stark black geometry against the fiery red and negative space creates an immediate tension. Curator: Tension, yes! Like a city grid fracturing. Look at the texture; the cuts seem so raw and immediate. You feel the artist's hand, their energy pushing against the material. Makes me wonder what he was grappling with when he made this. Editor: Absolutely, the materiality is key. Pomodoro's use of the linocut technique emphasizes the contrast—the delicate paper versus the density of the ink. Structurally, the work hinges on that central vertical axis, which acts as a kind of visual anchor. Note how the horizontal elements never quite break free, yet disturb its rigidity. Curator: The composition also seems to defy any traditional landscape reading, though one might intuitively search for horizon line within its layered arrangement. Editor: Exactly. He deconstructs spatial expectations by playing with balance and imbalance. You are lured into its depths by the radial design. This visual pull into the abyss causes a cognitive recalibration that's jarring and almost suffocating... a very contemporary mood in art, a nod to nihilism? Curator: That's interesting—suffocating! To me, there’s a liberation in its raw abstraction. It throws off the shackles of representation and creates its own fiercely independent reality, one built from the grit and grind. The grid like formation reminds of ruins that had to come down to build anew. Editor: Perhaps it is. And it is that unresolved binary between the grid and the organic abstraction that gives it such power. We see an architecture fighting for space, negotiating terms for recognition on paper—or total annihilation. Curator: So, what do we both take away, when everything else is boiled away? Editor: I guess that the piece is less about pure form than about the *feeling* of form in dissolution. And you? Curator: I see both something demolished and something created, forever dancing on the paper's surface. I find that strangely... hopeful.