Achrome 1960

Editor: So, this is Piero Manzoni’s *Achrome* from 1960. It seems to be mixed media on paper – a kind of monochrome, but not really. There's a certain quietness to it, almost meditative, even though the surface is disrupted by these folds. What do you see in this piece? Curator: The first thing that strikes me is the stark whiteness. But it’s not simply about colour, or the lack of it. It’s about a cleansing, a stripping away. White has, for millennia, been associated with purity, innocence, but also death, a blank slate. Editor: So it's more symbolic than I thought. It looked... textural at first glance. Curator: Precisely. Think of the time in which Manzoni was working. Post-war Italy was grappling with rebuilding, with finding a new identity. *Achrome* becomes a visual representation of that societal yearning for a clean break, a new beginning, almost like a baptism. The folds themselves, that manipulation of the surface – do they remind you of anything? Editor: I guess... fabric? Or skin, maybe? Curator: Consider draped cloth in classical sculpture, often used to convey status, but also to partially reveal, partially conceal. Manzoni is using that language of draping to ask, what is being revealed here? What is being concealed? The folds could equally signify absence, like shroud lines. The folds become carriers of the symbolism. Editor: It’s like he’s pushing us to look *beyond* the monochrome. Curator: Exactly. The Achrome isn’t about the absence of color. It's about the presence of idea, symbol and emotion held within the material itself. And in thinking of the symbolism – what do *you* feel, now? Editor: I see that it's charged, and maybe even challenging to interpret! Thank you for all the insight. Curator: And thank you for giving me a chance to revisit its quiet potency.