Crazy God
Photographs
by Yvonne de Rosa
Introductory
essay: Laura Noble
There are
dark places in all of us. The human body much is like a building – its
supporting structure of blood, flesh and bone a home for the psyche. As with
all buildings, it is prone to damage and bears the scars of wear and tear. In
Yvonne de Rosa’s series ‘Crazy God’ she depicts the architecture of the mind
through the near empty shell of a closed down hospital for the treatment of the
mentally ill.
We are
presented with little context. We
are aware that the building is located somewhere in Italy, however the exact
geography is un-important. De Rosa’s concerns are not focused on the story of
the specific building, but instead on presenting a portrait of many
institutions that were built and operated in similar ways all over Europe. The
resulting photographs are akin to the findings of an arc eological dig where we
are left with clues and artefacts to piece together the psychogeography of the
place.
Dark
corridors illuminated by pools of light from doors and windows serve as a stark
reminder of the bright world beyond its walls, a teasing glow of freedom.
Lenticular arches of sunlight lead the eye towards a window marking a dead end.
Doors with small eye-level slots used to observe the person inside now gape
open, but never loose their oppressive nature. That is not to say this is work that revels in grimness; De
Rosa finds a textural beauty in her subject, decay from years of neglect during
which the building has seemingly reclaimed its soul and character, obscuring
the institutionalised nature of it’s earlier life and creating an aesthetic
which is strangely seductive. The dilapidation has a softening effect on the
hard walls and sharp angles of the rooms.
We find cots and tiled floors littered with debris and chipped paint
dusting the surfaces, the nature of the ruins only becoming apparent with
closer inspection leaving the harsher reality of the tableaux depicted to
reveal itself gradually.
 |
Dear wife: I got to know that you have been ill for more than two months with bronchitis: and rheumatisms: and are still ill: with bronchitis: is that true? As soon as you feel better and are able to get up next July, you will take Loorenzo’s car to come to visit your husband minicuccio: for: 24 years have already passed that we were apart: that we lost touch
I wait for you: Love.
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De Rosa’s
haunting and often moving images are more powerful through the absence of the
people who were once patients within its walls. They have left personal and physical traces now held by the
building itself - the keeper of memories – remnants of lives we will never
witness. De Rosa herself unearthed reminders of her time there, returning to
the hospital she had worked in for three years as a volunteer. Her difficulty
in gaining access to the building after its closure resulted in De Rosa
breaking in to wander the now dark wards in order to uncover something of its
past – an action which create almost tangible sense of new discovery as we
follow her illicit steps.
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....Dearest madam I am very sorry to announce the death of your son, occurred at 9:18. He died of astronomic death Ribeloivedol (?). Dear Madam it is useless for us to repent or to mourn him, we could make an agreement to take him away from you before that. It was our fault. So a hearse will take him there tomorrow, you wait for him in the Piazza dei Caduti Roma.
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The
hospital becomes an empty theatre in which the props left from the last
performance are left to gather dust for the next company to re-adapt and use to
tell another tale. In this case De Rosa is the playwright whose photographs
weave the story utilising the objects left on floors in cupboards, cabinets,
leaning against walls scratched with names and messages painting a sorrowful
series of scenes.
Dagli appunti del dottore:
Assunta B.
psicotica, chiusa in un reparto.
Esprimendosi solo per via di proverbi, quando non ne conosceva uno adatto all' occasione, soleva inventarli.
"Donna chiusa, male sta!"
Giorgio B.
lettera inviata ai parenti
" Scrivetemi lettere abbbondanti perche' aspetto notizie della famiglia con molto attendimento.
Io sto bene e qui' le giornate passano tanto lentamente non si puo'fare niente, solo parlare con il dottore e fare le pitture dentro la stanza dove tutti soffrono e pittano per farsi capire.
Datemi vostre notizie buone e vi faccio tanti auguri per il santo natale che sta arrivando lentamente..."
Pasquale V.
dottore è già molto che sono quì, posso uscire?
Dottore, è già molto, posso uscire?
Lina G.
lanciava al di la delle sbarre bigliettini appallottolati
"Provvedete subito rapida rapidita' mio ritorno famiglia.
Necessario vestito vestimento vestizione eleganza scopo buona apparenza apparentemente cordialità attesa riscontramento"
" non credevo che l' inferno potesse durare tanto"
Salvatore T
quando prendo carta e penna e mi accingo a scrivere, se non trovo una soluzione almeno pratica, non imbratto la carta così a vuoto, insomma qualcosa di vero...
prendo penna e carta lo spunto è già arrivato, prima che metto nero su bianco.
Ascolto il mondo.
ecco la voce! amica sincera, sono dentro di te.
Feliciano F.
sabbia ardente io dormo su di te e la mia anima parte con il vento.
