Raffaele Carrieri

Raffaele Carrieri

Visita notturna a dodici nudi

  1. Dady Orsi (1977) Nudo Femminile
  2. Dady Orsi (1976) Omaggio a Muybridge (particolare)
  3. Dady Orsi (1976) Omaggio a Muybridge (particolare)
  4. Eadweard Muybridge (1887) Donna che entra nel letto

I work at night as a special category of railway porter. All my poems were written at night. And the rest too: a mountain of printed paper. What I wrote and did before midnight was wrong, poorly executed, rushed, unwillingly. I am nocturnal by nature and vocation. Around midnight, the tension in my nerves begins to slow down: I feel quieter, less vibrant. I certainly do not become optimistic, but I impose a certain tranquillity on myself, and sometimes I enjoy unleashing desires that would make me blush during the day. It’s a risk I like to take. I can hardly do anything without a little pleasure!

For health reasons, I have been living in the country for a few years now. I come to Milan every few months or so. I start coughing on arrival. I’d like to stay for a fortnight, but I’m forced to leave three days later. I’m even ashamed to write it!

I arrived on the 20th of January. The following day there was Riviera weather: Sorrento, Amalfi, Positano. Not a cough in thirty-two hours. What a beauty!

Yesterday at midnight, Piero Fornasetti picked me up to take me to see a bunch of Dady Orsi’s drawings at the Galleria dei Bibliofili. The exhibitions designed and set up by Fornasetti in Via Morone are among the most original held in Italy. And as soon as I can, I stay to visit them. I missed one: but I do not wish to bore you with my good reasons.

Orsi’s drawings depicted discreet girls who were quite active in titillating themselves: a fluency of sign that was a little calligraphic but insinuating. The first master by whom he was influenced must have been Egon Schiele; but without dramatic consequences. No anger! The opposite of damnation: a proposal of pleasure like the taste of a Vol-au-vent! Piero, like an irreducible Japanese guide, promised to surprise me with the twelve large paintings by Orsi.

Around two o’clock in the morning, Fornasetti ushered me into the Bibliophiles’ salon as if into a sinful meeting. I don’t think that in the presence of the Nude in Twelve Paintings there were any visitors who were dismayed, irritated or tempted by the devil. Not even a mugging! Not even the slightest attempt at bribery. Not one proposal of concubinage. No dead hands in the most exposed parts.

The protagonist was absolutely chaste and unassailable in her pinkish, antiseptic toothpaste complexion: the embodiment of a Norwegian diet recipe. A youthful body without provocation: shaved, smooth, without a single dimple or wrinkle, without a ribbon, without even the watch-bracelet for the morning alarm. Why so much effort in positions and push-ups to end up in an orphan’s cot? In the twelfth painting when the protagonist enters – at last! – into the sheets and becomes smaller than natural, I imagine that, if there were a thirteenth painting, we would see her vanish like a cloud of talcum powder.

On the occasion of the exhibition Naked in 12 Pictures
Galleria Dei Bibliofili Milano 1981