I have come upon this old news dating back to 2010, but it is never too late to express one's own opinions if one feels the need; after all I already did that with artworks dating back to Renaissance and that emphasizes what I already stated in my analysis of Caravaggio's life. Eron, a writer grew up on the street, who has with time merited appreciation and awards, obtained institutional engagements and participations in many important events, in 2010 he painted the ceiling of a church, not covertly, but under commission. He has been the first writer in the world to decorate a church, and as far as I know, luckily the last.
People are free to choose what to do, but this case has come to the betrayal, sadly denoting that, with time, almost always the success corrupts and mollify anyone, although Eron has never been one of the extremer writers. The hip-hop movement, the graffitism, the street art and the urban culture, have always been folk expressions of dissent, strongly connoted by the denounce, often ironical or satirical, but undoubtedly against the injustices and the hegemonies of the power. With all the empathy for the art that Eron have managed to express in the beginning, is it still the case to call himself a writer? It is not for chance that since then his artistic deeds have become very nostalgic.
We are assisting to many examples of flexure: excessively poetical or inconclusive writers, monkeying that kind of “abstentionist” contemporary art, that have no courage to say anything that is not politically correct, loving just technical virtuosismo and aestheticism, the practice of style. Dear writers, awake, be strong and inflexible, today more than ever the power that relegates people to ghettos is corrupting also the minds, trying to put to sleep any form of dissent.
We can not justify saying that to decorate a church one can not propose inadequate topics, because the essential point is right that one should have not served his work to adorn a church, for even Vatican, today more than ever, is part of that political system of connivance with the strategies of power that are responsible for all the injustices and the evils against which the writers, at least some, have always fought for. Wouldn't have been better to denounce some scandal with a nice unauthorized graffiti? This example from Eron seems right an episode that is functional to the interference, or the millennial intrusion, of the clerical power into Art, which is, and it must be, a free sentiment of the human expression, individual, not subjected to required adjustments of the contents (self-censorship) and to the allures of rewards from the commissioners. Right since that year and in later times, this process of infiltration made by religion into the artistic dimension have regained new strength, either with the convocation to a convention for many influential artists by Benedict XVI, and with the very actual debut of Vatican Pavilion at the 55th Art Biennial of Venice (that we will review soon) guided by Cardinal Ravasi, who said: “we must rebuild the interrupted dialogue between art and faith”, obviously to bend this very powerful tool of persuasion, perhaps gone out of their control, to the wills of power. The Church in the millennia has stolen the best artists from their free expression, being in power to bribe them with its immense treasures, making them famous and rewarding them with its gold, that it has used for this reason with a coercing method, instead of the sake to free people and the souls. Spirit does not need a Church, which serves just the materialism of power.
But, let us analyse the artwork: Eron paints a very beautiful and photo-realistic sky, even though with some grey clouds heralding rain; just below he places on the eave an excellent trompe l'oeil representing a writer with cherub wings who is going to draw stylized golden doves flying up to reach their realistic representations that librate on the sky painted in the ceiling. I do not know if our author consciously wished to express a precise concept with this mural or if he let himself to be carried away by his lyricism and his touch working in a religious place, but what I see in this artwork is the death of the writer, his renunciation to rebel to power: a writer, alone and grey, stands on a eave, typical tòpos of the suicide jumper, painting some doves, all along a symbol for the flight of the soul and of sacrifice, and hence of death. To me the message is more than clear: writers, you are in a dangerous position, stop dissenting and bow to the power.