
Song Of The Blackbird, This Summer Morning
,
2023
Patrick Piccinelli
Song Of The Blackbird, This Summer Morning
2023
Acrylic, Ink on Canvas
Acrylic, Ink on Canvas
60
60
X
X
120
120
Available
โฌ
3,200
shipping worldwide included
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This work is presented as a diptych (two 60x60 cm canvases for a total size of 60x120 cm), two distinct yet conversing panels, a musical metaphor in itself: two voices, one song.
The right-hand panel evokes the world of Neo-Plasticism (Mondrian, van Doesburg): red, yellow, pink, and black bands arranged at right angles, a space governed by rules and measures. It is the score, the formal structure of music, its staves, its bar lines, its calculated silences.
The left-hand panel echoes this logic with a large, anchored black rectangle, traversed by thin yellow and red lines, like melodic lines stretched horizontally, fragile, almost inaudible.
At the center of the diptych bursts forth a double splash of orange and red, organic, unpredictable, irreducible to any geometry.
The stain knows no bounds. It spills over onto both panels, like the song of the blackbird transgresses the silence, like it ignores human categories between nature and music, between chaos and beauty.
This work is presented as a diptych (two 60x60 cm canvases for a total size of 60x120 cm), two distinct yet conversing panels, a musical metaphor in itself: two voices, one song.
The right-hand panel evokes the world of Neo-Plasticism (Mondrian, van Doesburg): red, yellow, pink, and black bands arranged at right angles, a space governed by rules and measures. It is the score, the formal structure of music, its staves, its bar lines, its calculated silences.
The left-hand panel echoes this logic with a large, anchored black rectangle, traversed by thin yellow and red lines, like melodic lines stretched horizontally, fragile, almost inaudible.
At the center of the diptych bursts forth a double splash of orange and red, organic, unpredictable, irreducible to any geometry.
The stain knows no bounds. It spills over onto both panels, like the song of the blackbird transgresses the silence, like it ignores human categories between nature and music, between chaos and beauty.



























