During the usual journeys through art, one occasionally encounters phenomena and situations that, through sheer empathy, evoke emotions and compel an unplanned pause along the itinerary.
This happened with Andrea Benetti.
His work captivates those who, eager for colors and expressive exuberance, have pursued the traces of Miró, Matisse, Klee, Depero, and, in more recent times, Nespolo, Donzelli, and Lodola. It is a feast for the eyes and for the vast archive of iconic imagery stored within the mind.
Benetti unfurls his lexicon of codified images and, through their use—almost as if they were words ready to form ever-new sentences—he weaves narratives that delve into an ancestral existence.
He defines himself as Neorupestrian, seemingly confining himself within an “-ism,” yet he does not. He is a young man of the third millennium, astute and enriched by knowledge and experience, which allow him to effortlessly activate a playful approach in composing and executing his artistic themes.
I assert this because Andrea Benetti’s technical skill and painterly abilities risk self-extinction if he were to confine himself within this “reserve.”
A concept or an era should not serve as mere boundaries; they should not limit the natural curiosity of those who have made art their very reason for living.