There are many stages in the “archaic” journey, but the true beginning and the path to be considered a real “voyage” into the unconscious of the reborn primitive artist remain undefined. To help the viewer renew their gaze and change the perception of themselves reflected in the initiatory journey of the narrative, the artist employs specific aged supports. The symbols, in the strictest sense of the term, live and intertwine with dance, gestures, animals, and human attire. In this sense, the term “archaic” should not be understood as a mysterious object, nor as something emerging from a catacomb-like cave where obsidian knives lurk. Rather, it should be viewed as an intimate distillation of what is “beautiful” in the history of humankind—its birth and its environment. The painting is not a “revealed secret” but an external component, extracted from the imaginary wall and introduced into our daily life simply through the icons of the primitive world.
This approach to painting appears to be the ultimate possible representation, the final appearance of the sacred dance in the perfection of movement, juxtaposed with its immobility. We find ourselves before the great moment of archaic painting, embodying the representation of the absurd unmoved mover of the reflected image—a unique reality in the depiction of man, animals, and nature. For the sake of truth, it must be said: representation is one’s own destiny reflected in the image. A labyrinth of images on a confined surface, dictated by the narrative upon that surface.
With evident hedonistic intentions, Andrea Benetti seems to partake in the “end” of painting by reintroducing its origins—the archaic, the ritual, and the iconic image of the past. The viewer becomes the actor; the image is that of the artist, who, through various stages, prepares to put his own history back into play, retrieving it from the archaic world to tell and share a story with others. In essence, he adopts a mode of storytelling from the archaic world, makes it his own, and becomes his own master. It is a creative baptism, the first and singular one, by which the neophyte artist is admitted into the community of creators. A second birth—a different application of color, of form in creation—marks the beginning of a minor mystery, applying color differently on the support.
The artist seems to indicate the path to salvation, to the reinvigoration of painting, without hesitation. He captures images from the past and reintroduces them into the present. Centuries ago, humankind reminded us that the world had no common language other than images, and they shared these with pride, displaying them to their tribes. There are no “translations” of archaic images—only interpretations of the phases of reproduction, hunting, and communal life. Archaic or primitive painting alone ensures the transmission of daily life, reflected in both the everyday and the sacred ritualistic aspect.
Andrea Benetti’s translation is symbolically archaic, yet it rigorously reaffirms the image of man projected into his life, his environment, and his contradictions. The transmission of images occurs through the extrapolation of the primitive discourse, borrowing the alphabet of the archaic world and recomposing it in modern terms. The icons engage with modern forms—shifting from rock to paper, from wood to canvas—as if the support were nothing more than a screen on which images are set into motion. The modes of representation and narration are infinite, yet one senses that man ultimately becomes his own father, or his own master, merging these roles in the act of representation. Forms, colors, and narratives converge into a single dimension: the painting.
In concrete terms, there exist countless ways to depict the same reality, and these approaches are as numerous and diverse as the forms of existence itself. Music and dance cannot be “narrated,” yet they can be truly rendered in figurative terms if the actor, the painter, and the viewer become one. The image created is symbolic, yet for millennia, it has been reflected in the traditions of daily life. The artist merely assimilates and interprets it.
To the extent that painting itself aligns with a recognizable form—as the identity of a creator, an “artist”—it is acknowledged through its technique, recognized by its “hand,” and attributed to its author. In this case, the artist extracts the hand of another artist, immerses it in his world, and seeks to make it his own, recounting his own story. The immediacy and understanding of this empirical process defy theoretical or practical explanations; they are embodied in the artist, who in turn identifies with the first primitive human, the one who suggests the form of true life—the truth conveyed through the manual artistry of archaic Homo sapiens.
We must not forget that the artist does not “create” anything in the conventional sense of the word. Instead, he draws from the past, expressing these reminiscences in an accessible way for others. Andrea Benetti soars even higher—he plays with the absurd, engages in self-critique, and chooses his own form and his own image, reflected in the primitive way of capturing life and the human figure. He is an artist who does not evade this rule; rather, he epitomizes its peak, its contradiction, and its critical reinterpretation. He extracts impulses, isolates them, and affixes them to the surface, allowing them to revive within a critical framework—as if life had not changed, as if emotions remained unaltered.
These connections unfold like those of a physically imposing dancer, as if movement itself granted the artist—a being who moves, lives, and dances—a freedom that materializes in the manual reconstruction of an archaic-modern world, expressed through painting at the height of his creative excess.