Curated by Carlo Falciani, independent curator and professor of History of Art at the Academy of Fine Arts in Florence, Tensione Continua is a multi-faceted group exhibition highlighting painstakingly selected works by artists from diverse cultural and historic backgrounds. "Continuous Tension" is based on the idea that tension is a recurring element in many works that are present in Galleria Continua's roster of international artists. The exhibition strives to study tension from four different points of view: Tension as present in the laws of physics, erotic tension, contemplative tension and social tension. 

Finding the common thread that coherently interweaves the intellectual output of twenty-nine artists is not an easy task; akin to solving a riddle in a language you barely speak, yet Prof Falciani pulls through and makes it work. The invisible lines he conjures up between the subjects and the exhibited works are prodigious. Stepping in from the entrance on street-level and meandering down to the former cinema-theatre on level -1, through the sizable halls, long and narrow corridors, nooks and crannies of the gallery spaces, you can feel the tension building through your veins. A maze of wonders leads you into the unknown. 

Absorption (2019) by Alicja Kwade brings the gaze of the viewer with one's own whilst being completely absorbed and observed by one and all. Why is it that Narcissus comes to mind so vividly every time an artwork involves the use of a mirror? A world within a world opens in the reflection provided by this monumental work which shares the same space as a first edition of Galileo Galilei's Sidereus Nuncius (1610), the earliest printed depiction of the moon as seen through a telescope. As ever, Kwade's work brings to earth what seems distant and almost "unearthly" and makes you look at yourself and your world through strangers' eyes. 

The Way We Were (2018) by Arcangelo Sassolino (whose surname playfully translates into English as "little stone") is truly a sensory journey through our human history, turning large slabs of black basalt - a volcanic rock - into dust. The loud cracking sound and the acrid smell that emanates from the process is as ancestral as Pompeii or Umm al-Jimal. It is hard to comprehend that 250 million years ago basalt volcanism triggered the largest mass extinction (the Permian-Triassic extinction event), 60 million years ago basalt formed the Giant's Causeway in Ireland, and in 1969 basalt samples were brought back from the Moon, and now, here we are, the way we were in the pristine surroundings of an art gallery. Perhaps millions of years from now, there will be other beings harbouring what we call an "artistic inclination" and who will produce a portrait of our mass extinction in volcanic rock. We become what we were, we are what we were, but in this extraordinary cycle, we forget what the stones know. Our survival is solely possible through that very act of obliteration and forgetting. Or perhaps, via a political discourse, one could assume the press represents the ruthless capitalist system that crushes us to smithereens but I feel this reading is far too literal. 

Nevertheless, it is with Giuseppe Penone's sculpture Nel Legno (2009) that we are reminded of the ingenuity of nature; the growth rings carved into tree trunks -  mother nature's signature - regardless of and despite human intervention. 

Two works on canvas (Obscured Red Cross (2019-2020) & Black Wings (2017)) by Cai Guo-Qiang - known as the gunpowder artist for his repeated use of the explosive material - are positioned across from and creating palpable tension with Sabrina Mezzaqui's ice sculpture, Eternità (La Regina delle Nevi, 2011). As the gunpowder combusted canvases remain oh so still in their unpredictable nature, an eternity literally melts before us. 

It can be ascertained that this initial part of the exhibition offers such a powerful sensory experience due to the palpability of dialectics in between the exhibited works. 

The second part of Tensione Continua - although according to the curator this is the final part of the exhibition - that was of great interest and significance to me is that of social tension. Curated in the art deco style surroundings of the former cinema-theatre and its balconies, the first three works that arrest the gaze (as viewed from the dress circle and as seen in the image reel below) are Adel Abdessemed's Otchi Tchornie (Dark Eyes, 2017) titled after the well-known song as well as the coal-black eyes of the burnt figures, Kader Attia's Le Grand Miroir du Monde (The Great Mirror of the World, 2017) and Ai Weiwei's Black Chandelier in Murano Glass (2017-2021). These three large-scale installations which make heavy references to death besides recent political and social events, require a grandiose exhibition space.  Though, to me it felt that these hot and bothersome topics were cooled down by the sheer size of the space, dampening the effect of the emotional burden with which the audience was meant to be loaded. Perhaps in another space, all three of these works could have moved me to tears, but not this time. 

On the left balcony (see above), Marcelo Cidade's three photographs from his series Realidade Placebo (Placebo Reality, 2014) centred on the Egyptian Crisis and the protests that followed, remind me of the social struggles in my own motherland, Turkey. July 2014 was also the year in which Gezi Park protests took place in Istanbul, 2024 will mark the 10th anniversary of this suppressed civil unrest and social uprising. In an alternate reality, I wonder if we are made to believe a struggle that doesn't exist just so we have to spend our time swimming against the current while the big fish gets bigger? 

And when you turn your gaze to the lower gallery, in Kader Attia's mirror-shards you see it all: nationalism vs. liberalism, totalitarianism vs. anarchism, democracy vs. dictatorship, populism vs. elitism, oppression vs. freedom, hope and despair. I visited the exhibition during the press preview. Standing in a corner, I looked around me. I saw relatively educated people with greater economic means. Where were the real subjects of these works? Some of them are dead in a twist of fate, as connoted by Otchi Tchornie with its 27 charred wooden effigies representing the Red Army Chorus all of whom were killed in a plane crash on Christmas Day in 2016 on their way to support Russian troops in Syria.  But what about the "common people" who may have inspired the likes of these artworks? Most often, they are drowned out from our frame of view by the bright neon lights of commercialism. Art that is made about the oppressed has always been viewed and beheld by the powerful and the wealthy. Yet, this idiosyncrasy - a longstanding prerequisite of the art industry - never ceases to terrorise me. The age-old rule in the book: Suffering sells well. 

In the lower gallery, an early example of Alberto Burri's works mediated by fire, Combustione (1960) is accompanied by an early Pontormo titled, Marco Curzio (1513) and Renato Guttuso's Il Partigiano (1953). Following his recipe for continuous tension to the letter, Falciani shows great courage to place these three Italian artists with very distinct styles and political stances on the same wall, although the sentimental connection that ideologically unites "Marcus Curtius" and "The Partisan" remains established through their martyrdom for the greater cause. In the interim, I stand aghast to think which noble individual will go through a baptism of fire for the salvation of our globalised society. Attempting to make such connections between timeless art and our contemporary society is central to establishing our gaze on any subject matter. For, in part, art is sociology. 

As per Falciani's vision, the second phase of Tensione Continua has been dedicated to erotic tension and highlights works by Hans Bellmer, Quinto Martini, Berlinde de Bruyckere, Jonathas de Andrade, René Boyvin in conjunction with Florentine painter Agnolo Bronzino's "burlesque" poetry book titled, Rime in Burla (first edition 1538). Within the exhibition space, this part has been squeezed between  the parts representing the tension as present in the laws of physics and contemplative tension. At a time when most art reviews read like a press release or pretentious gibberish undecipherable to many, please consider that I thought long and hard about whether I should actually include the following statements in this artistic assessment. As I did so, I was reminded by the fact that I started this review with Truth and there was no other way to wrap it up with anything other than "my truth". Thus, in order to exercise my right to "freedom of expression", I decided that - despite running the risk of appearing selfish or arrogant - I must not refrain from sharing my views below. 

First of all, I must state that I was not familiar with Bronzino's poems before this exhibition and I am grateful to be presented with the opportunity to embark on a new literary journey through Deborah Parker's diligent work who introduced several translations of the Renaissance painter's poems into English over two decades ago. While this means that I evidently missed out on at least some of the contexts shared in this part of the exhibition, I still think that some of the curatorial practices adopted in this phase rendered some of the artworks on display feel like "space fillers" even though they deserved to be the climax. I felt that this was particularly the case for the series titled The Water Spirits (2017) by Jonathas de Andrade, as well as his clay body and lost speedo installation titled, Lost and Found (2019). I understand the desire to include the work in this exhibition but I also think that when we curate art we need to give it the space it deserves. At times, closing off one area/space of a gallery is better than situating an artwork that does not "work" in the space. In fact, I could go as far as to say I believe this part dedicated to erotic tension required more fine-tuning and could have been the subject of a separate exhibition exploring sub-topics such as politics, social psychology, feminism, masculinity, LGBTQ+. 

I also believe that due to the layout of the lower gallery spaces on Level -1, the artwork displayed in reference to contemplative tension was scattered, thus offering a disconnected viewing experience. Though, the merit of the works selected for this grand exhibition is undoubtable. 

Just to conclude: I am looking forward to seeing more from Jonathas de Andrade on 2nd November when his  film "Knot in the Throat" (2022) - commissioned and produced by Fondazione In Between Art Film - will be screened inside the former Zoological Gardens of Turin as one of Artissima's Special Projects in 2023. 

See you there!