THOMAS BRAIDA | MATEMATICHE NOTTURNE

Monito Gallery – Lisbon

Opening on December 6th

Until February 3rd

End of Broadcasts

“You have no more content to see.”

Once upon a time, in a burst of honesty, Facebook used to inform us when we had concluded our scroll through the news shared by our, then limited, group of friends. A parallel scenario happened at the beginning of Italian television when the message “End of broadcasts” simultaneously graced the screens of viewers. This signal marked the absence of further programs to air or the conditions necessary for broadcasting. Composer and conductor Roberto Lupi, creator of “Armonie del Pianeta Saturno,” the closing theme for RAI’s “End of broadcasts” from 1954 to 1985, described the composition as follows: “It is a short piece of serene and, I would say, naive character. The oboe playfully repeats a fragment in the form of a call, while the strings calmly expose a lulling theme, preparing listeners for a peaceful sleep. My intention was to bring closure, yes, but also to prepare the listener’s soul for a calm and dreamy night.”

In today’s landscape, swiping through the endless stories on our Instagram and Tik Tok pages or navigating through the multitude of options on TV and streaming platforms, one may ponder the disappearance of that kindness and consideration toward the spectators and the sacred repose they once deserved. The repercussions of this lack of sensitivity may take years, perhaps centuries, to fully unveil. However, one noticeable consequence is the confusion arising from the inundation of images and information. Occasionally, we encounter something that doesn’t quite add up—an image whose authenticity is uncertain or news too absurd to believe. Doubts and perplexities arise, prompting questions: Is this event truly incredible, or am I undergoing a gradual erosion of my ability to discern truth from falsehood?

This peculiar sentiment, challenging to define except through an extended, confusing, and nostalgic metaphor, is precisely what Thomas Braida’s work often evokes in me.

The sensation of being transported into an imaginary world is inherently pleasant, though trust is not the predominant element in the journeys the artist takes visitors through in his paintings. Observing his landscapes, often inhabited by eerie creatures like the ones who live in al mondo non occorre un altro superoe, (2023), one may feel they have encountered those presences before but lack any clues as to when or where. Consequently, thinking about his paintings leads me more naturally to the impression of confronting a manipulation of perception rather than a manipulation of the reality itself. Indeed, as Braida asserts: “Each of my works represents something that exists, can exist, or has existed in some universe or in anyone’s dream.”

However, the artist adds another important ingredient to his representations which seems to make them even more effective. This element is light. The light coming from Thomas Braida’s paintings has always worked like a siren’s song for my senses. Perhaps it’s because that light reminded me of an illustrated fairy tale book I brought home from school at the age of eight, treasuring it with such fascination that I would caress its pages every time I flipped through. Like those forest paths my eyes followed enraptured only by the edge of the page, the intrinsic light from his paintings captures my sense of space and time, seemingly diminishing my spatial awareness.

Said so, I must admit that when I first read the title of this show “Matematiche Notturne” (Night Mathematics) I panicked a bit. I am, without pride, part of that group of people who have never liked mathematics, probably because I never made any effort to understand it. So, instinctively, when I read the title of this show, I was afraid of not comprehending it. After reflecting on the effect that his work has on me, I must admit that I now grasp, even if only slightly, what the artist means when he talks about “colored equations” and luckily, I feel more at ease getting lost inside Thomas Braida’s subconscious.

Alberta Romano