Ravenous, wary, crowned with reverential awe, smeared with more than 10 textures in unison; an intense coming and going of shattered fibres, splinters, amorphous lattices, elements that in their archetypal tendency to clash and annihilate one another, re-emerge from the hands of sculptor Antonio Massarutto as tangible fragments of a dreamlike, out-of-control natural dimension. An almost alchemical manual skill, unrivalled on the contemporary sculptural scene; a work of tormented precision, capable of infusing biomechanical vibrations into this heap of plastic tendons, vegetal scrolls and bony volumes, which, like a curse, take possession of a void and repopulate it in the most unexpected of evolutions.

These are sculptures of considerable size, chiselled and ineffable down to the smallest detail, capable of inspiring depth through their material polychromy: Massarutto gives us an apocalyptic and enchanted forest. Massarutto respects nature and duplicates it, triplicates it, steals its creative intent and weighs it down with all of human delirium, with beings that seem to have emerged from some unpublished gothic tale, conceived under barbiturates.

Barn owls, wild boars, crows and other fairy-tale creatures observe us, thrusting themselves forcefully before our trembling gaze; because while replicating natural forms has been widely explored as an artistic field, with Massarutto we sail into a naturist futurism, where nothing will remain but the scraps and whispers of an extinct universe – one that, thanks to a backup carried out with unmatched technical enthusiasm, will end up making us feel less guilty and forcefully more like creators. In homine, Deus.