FALSE MOVEMENT

12.10 – 05.12.2021
ZAMAGNI ART GALLERY
Rimini (Italy)
curated by Valerio Dehò

After all, artists through their work make an initiatory journey, they go in search of the  world through themselves, their own feelings, their own experience.” 

Rimini – Opening Saturday, Oct. 30 at 5 p.m., “False Movement” is an exhibition curated by  Valerio Dehò that encompasses great poetry, nostalgic loneliness and remembrance  through the works of Kiril Cholakov and Denis Riva. It represents a powerful path that can  be read with that great emotion that unites “poet” artists, even in the diversity of their  languages

“False Movement”, before being the title of this exhibition, was the title of a  famous film by Wim Wenders, inspired by Wolfgang Goethe’s novel “Wilhem  Meister’s Apprenticeship”, written in the late 18th century. The theme of the  film and the book is that of overcoming the artist’s loneliness.

The artist expresses himself, seeking and discovering himself, but is never  satisfied. His search has no conclusion, his own subjectivity is also always  put to the test by the judgment of others, the public, and most probably that of  the critics as well. And this movement is never really one that’s going forward,  it is often one of going backward in one’s own history, in the nostalgia for  something far away in time, in the happiness of finding something that one  thought was lost. A FALSE MOVEMENT. 

Two souls coexist in the world of KIRIL CHOLAKOV – the one of storytelling,  of the word that travels through time, and the one of memory, that prevents  movement, that binds the artist to a fixed point, to an origin. 

The works on display tell the story of the man who adopts a stork and makes  it into a simple and respected Bulgarian villager. It contains the elements of a  world that has not disappeared entirely, because art tells its story and  transmits it, in order for it to be reborn. A surreal and cruel story, in which the  stork, when attempting to return to its fellows for the following migration, is  killed: it has betrayed the group and has been punished for it. 

The artist has also left the group. Kiril manages to create his own poetic  universe, made up of micro events, drawn from literature, from his own  personal history. He is tied to his “coming-of-age novel” in search of the truth  that is hidden, to a wandering and a journey, without ever moving. “Every  departure is also a return,” the artist wrote. And before everything disappears  – men, countries, trees and animals, Kiril tries to retain, through his work,  these symbols that continue to pulsate in his veins. 

THE POETICISM OF HIS UNIVERSE HAS SOMETHING STILL AND  ABSOLUTE ABOUT IT. 

Everything becomes writing – words that narrate and build images. The  extraordinary technique with which phrases, whole texts, become textures of  images, accompanies with a welcoming black and white the wonderous  dimension of art, art transforming into a writer, and the writer – into an artist, a  duality, which itself is in search of unitry: as well as in search of an escape  from that solitude – a solitude, which is necessary in order to write or paint. 

Within his shadow theater ghosts and ancestral figures appear, from which he  has learned during his youth in Bulgaria, but always with a light tone, never  grim or ironic. The spiraling flight of the storks indicates the direction, the  connection between the earthly and the celestial, the eternal return of the  rejected, the freedom of the birds to point us, humans, to a possible  liberation.  Texts from the catalog edited by exhibition curator Valerio Dehò.

“A House Beyond the World”

This series, which I’ve continued to work on for  over 20 years, finds its beginning in a true story, one which evokes images  that I feel strongly about: 
Some time ago a stork failed to fly away with the others during autumn (Izvor  is a small Bulgarian village, located on one of the migration routes of storks – birds which have been arriving there “for many moons” each spring and  always leaving at the end of summer). When the mists of November returned,  the stork’s lonely silhouette could be seen emerging in the nest on top the  electricity pole. As time went on ..

As time went on, a quirky fellow from the village, nicknamed  “Bohemo,” began bringing him something to eat, and so gradually the Stork  was no longer afraid of him and came down from the nest and would  accompany him all the way to his house, and when the big snow came,  Bohemo took him to his warm home. This gesture provoked the ironic  comments of his fellow villagers, because to them, an animal is an animal  and thus by presumption should not enter the house as it is dirty, and it  should know its place – outside in the yard. Bohemo, however, did not care for  those comments and he told everyone that “he and Storko had made friends  and that he was a very fortunate animal” (in this neck of woods, they use the  word “fortunate” to express many things, it somehow sounds more city-like  and sopihsticated to them). And the stork followed him everywhere in his  footsteps – so at dusk the two of them would head “downtown-io” for  cigarettes and half a loaf of bread, they’d also stop for a chat at the pub, while  “downing” a rakia, however the villagers did not allow the stork in there, and  so it stood outside – by the door and to the left – and waited for hours,  motionless… afterwards the two of them would, step by step, walk up into the  darkness, under the falling snow… 

When spring came and the other storks returned to the village, “our guy” flew  up to greet them – they killed him with their beaks…