Ferdinando Ambrosino began as a painter of landscapes, only to become a painter of icons. How and why did such a radical transformation, which suggests more than ordinary stylistic evolution, take place? Such a dramatic change of subject, content and form suggests an event of major significance,a psychological awakening brought on by nothing less than a spiritual epiphany or an emotional trauma.In Ambrosino’s case, his decision to abandon a pleasing style of cheerful, abstract landscapes based on Impressionist precedent appears to have been triggered by the sudden vision of the meaning of the catastrophic events of our century. Already in the
The genius of Ambrosino lies in his ability to speak, at once, to the “mundane” and “sacred” in us. When I first came across his work, I was both, consoled and stricken by an incomprehensible melancholy. The figures seemed to me both, liberated yet oppressed. The colors were simultaneously joyful yet austere. I was in the presence of an artistic dichotomy in terms of semantic and style, the likes of which are very rare to come by.The art historian in me was immediately hurled into a hunt for comparisons in an attempt to address the work in a scholarly fashion.
It's a common occurrence for any respected anthology. Understandably so, since there's nothing more unbound and anarchic than an artist's journey. Thus, it's not surprising that the exhibition of Ferdinando Ambrosino — a painter with a career spanning over half a century — raises the usual questions. Should one adhere to a philological criterion, organising works by individual research themes and chronology? Or should the focus be on the outcomes of the latest period, showcasing more mature paintings that simultaneously resonate with the tastes and sensibilities of newer generations? Furthermore, should the exhibition document the trajectory of a long journey,