CARLO MASSOBRIO

I was born on October 17, 1956 in Demonte, a small town nestled in the mountains of the province of Cuneo. After an adolescence spent peeling my knees chasing the ball on the balding pitch of the town, I moved to Cuneo to attend high school. In this environment my passion for everything creative around me was born, from prog music to visual arts, even if the small size of the province has always limited my growth.

I graduated in architecture at the Polytechnic of Turin and I have carried out the profession with passion for over thirty years then, when Nicolò and Alice were born, I thought that life should be celebrated in another way and that is by following one's own passions, one's own creative instinct in contempt for profit, ambiguity and compromises that hovered more and more over my profession.

Mine, would like to be a work aimed at the search for meaning, based on the imagination, on dreams, on color and architecture, it is, like nature, creation, imagination.

I look around and see that reality, in these scattered hills of the Alta Langa, where I live, is far from the thoughts I have just written ...

 

I have given myself to teaching the visual arts which, with music, I believe are the only disciplines that know how to transmit and feed the most unbridled passions through pindaric flights and ruinous falls.

For me, art and music are inseparable; reason and emotion struggle to find space in a challenge that apparently is resolved in favor of the second, but - perhaps - by deception operated by the first.

I decided, without dressing the artist's clothes but as a simple artisan of color, to convey my search for emotions through the use of the most diverse colors and materials with the illusion of giving new life to a canvas, to a wall like an old newspaper page.

 

Author of the "bizarre" work on the church of San Domenico in Camerana, I am happy to make fun of myself and to deliberately treat art with the irony and imagination of those who consider the work of art as an extension of their existence.

It follows, therefore, a disenchanted and absolutely imaginary art, hoping to get away from the banality of the tragic and anonymous reality.