top of page

Sete

Pietro Moretti​​​

17.10 - 28.11.2026

"Every city receives its form from the desert it opposes; and so the camel driver and the sailor see Despina, a border city between two deserts." Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities, Vintage Publishing, 1997 In Italo Calvino’s story, Despina is a border city between two deserts, one of sand, the other of water. Through a projective movement, the camel driver and the sailor observe it from two antithetical perspectives. The camel driver looks at the city as a vessel that might carry him away from the desert; conversely, the sailor sees it as a camel that might carry him away from the desert of the sea, toward oases of fresh water. In this mirror-play, which is linked as much to desire as to the direction of the gaze, the city becomes a border space and a threshold where the inversion of directions produces two different forms of crossing. In the new series of works produced by Pietro Moretti for the solo exhibition entitled Sete (Thirst), the "threshold city" is caught between two forms of tension, one linked to desire, the other metaphorically bound to the difficulty of quenching and directing that very desire. The figures inhabiting this new cycle of works are called to confront their own irreducible fragilities, clashing despite themselves with two different conditions of repression of the primal drive, on one hand, limitation and ambition, sometimes misplaced, on the other, control and surveillance, to be understood certainly as archetypes, but also as coordinates of our present time. The thirst these figures possess causes them to plunge, change direction, imagine an elsewhere, and oppose, as if in a collective body that moves and changes, resists and narrates along with the city. This series of works presents itself as a natural extension of two previous moments – corresponding to two exhibition projects, Selve and Corpi Santi – but, at the same time, also as a decisive evolution both in terms of painterly practice and thematic cores. The threshold-city, the urban anatomy, and the interiors represent the spatial coordinates in which water is symbolically dominant: it appears as an incessant flow in the form of rain, or as a river, or even in the form of vapor - owing to a certain dustlike consistency that the painting takes on; and it appears, right from the title Sete, as an ardent desire of the body that pours its fluids outward to flood the spaces, shaping a possible, and dystopian, elsewhere. The compositions that Moretti brings to life are born from the overlapping and analogy of narrative devices and, more broadly, from a certain capacity to look inside and outside of things, lingering on eccentric aspects, eternally suspended between a waking state and a preconscious dreamlike stage. The recurring topoi - contemporary archetypes such as the body, human and interspecies relations, the bar, the street, the city - succeed one another to compose an a-logical system where reality and fiction blur, ultimately dissolving their mutual boundaries. In this infra-thin space, the immanence of Moretti’s pictorial lexicon dwells in the ability to signify a multiverse made of associative oddities and improbable twists. The waitress plunging from a building while a sly cat observes her from a window and another woman leans out, offering her a champagne flute, generates a short circuit that questions us on the absolute unpredictability of what is being observed. Drawing heavily from the mundane mysticism of literature - particularly from the novel and the short story - as well as from current events, the dimension these works possess resides in the ability to redirect referents by reinventing them, and in the potential to interrupt the ordinary through unforeseen patterns that generate the composition from a "coup de dés", linking issues of a social and political order starting from a situated personal posture. The uncanny therefore comes into action as a sacred estrangement from representation, through the framework of the fairy tale or the short story, but also through the appropriation of history and daily life, called upon to narrate spaces of care and desire, and of political bodies. In the scenes taking place along the streets of a city immersed in a never-dark night, the recurring figures are those of waiters and waitresses, individuals crossing semi-deserted streets, or indoor groups telling a broader story - as in the large painting of a café that echoes the pictorial cycle Café Deutschland (1977-83) by the German artist Jörg Immendorff. Here, the indoor space - into which the city enters from the glass window in the background, where the cold light of police car flashers counterpoints the warm light of a candle placed on the table - is a space where antithetical forces converge: resistance and repression, proximity and distance. A migrant family fleeing forced repatriation and a group of unaware night-time customers intent on consuming their drinks share the scene. Ambiguity becomes a semantic strategy, a guiding principle that sustains the relationships between subjects, and their connections with the place. In Moretti’s practice, a laborious process turns the colored watercolor sketch not merely into a preliminary study phase, but into a formal device that potentially contains the aura of the image subsequently developed on canvas, painted in oil, and with formats ranging from medium to large. The composition develops through this dual movement, inside and outside the canvas, with color fields that, veiling after veiling, restore a certain aquatic density to the surface, a dust-like characteristic of the chromatic matter vibrating with acid and earthy hues based, in the works on display, on a dominant palette of yellow, ochre, red, magenta, blue, and green.

In the transition from watercolor to canvas, there is also a dimensional leap of the subject: it appears enlarged, or reduced, transformed and rethought, as if in a focus adjustment where the lens is regulated. Producing micro and macro shifts of the figuration, Moretti privileges a compositional layout in which details are like small perspective cameos, akin to sixteenth-century predella paintings. The watercolors are completed works to which the artist assigns the role of opening and unfolding the image toward new layers of meaning and new systems of signification; they are sensitive screens, an imprimitura that drips to become a painting. The drawing, and the painting, saturate the space of the canvas until taking possession of it, with dizzying perspectives. It is a labor limae, certainly, but it is also a way of structuring the painting by seeking in the discarded fragment and the threshold, in what is yet to come, something concretely decisive for the gaze. In the works on display, there is a recurring element possessing its own symbolic specificities: light. An embodied tool of painting, light intervenes as a guide for the gaze. Whether dealing with urban landscapes or interiors, this dazzling and synthetic light is entirely within the color; it is the light of traffic lights, of venue windows, of cafés, the light of the night. Artificial, attractive, and clear, it is the spatial metaphor of contemporaneity, a flash that drenches the urban landscape, accompanying the nocturnal rhythms of the figures populating it. The city and the bar serve as a non-scenic backdrop for the characters: a waiter diligently folding used cloth napkins at the end of a shift; a waitress plunging from a building; a child drinking water from a puddle; two drug dealers playing chess on a dumpster; a family finding shelter in a bar late at night. The city appears in the form of a synecdoche, with its alienating aspect, its buildings made of windows that look like eyes, and the all-too-human humanity that populates it. Rather than the recognizability of these places, there is a feeling that characterizes them; each of them carries a value built around the memories that condense in the very act of crossing them. In the ripples of chromatic detail, of pure light, of the generative force of the mark lies all the energy of Moretti’s painting; the neon blue settling on the rain-glistening road surface, illuminating a figure from behind holding two bulky trash bags, tells of solitary figures who, through the night, seek their place in the world. In the actualization of the pictorial image lies the artist's entire capacity to enclose within the margins of the canvas a perspective window onto what is beyond: beyond the painting, beyond space, yet profoundly internal to the possibility of forging close, sympathetic bonds with those images - alliances based on the sensation of elusiveness and, at the same time, on the visceral drive toward comprehension. ***** In Greek myth, Tantalus, King of Phrygia, is condemned in Hades to stand in a river beneath lush fruit trees: whenever he bends down to drink, the water recedes; whenever he reaches out to feed, the fruit is swept away by the wind. Tantalus's punishment is to remain standing, immersed in a river, tormented by hunger and thirst. In Séminaire V, Les formations de l'inconscient (1957–1958), to elaborate on the structural distinction between hysterical desire and obsessive desire, Jacques Lacan proposes the comparison “the obsessive is a Tantalus”, thereby describing the inaccessibility of the fruits of obsessive desire. Berlin, Potsdamer Platz, 1996. The city is changing its face: millions of cubic meters of buildings are rising where, until a few years prior, the Wall and barbed wire marked one of the most radical fractures in European history. Archival footage shows the Director of the Deutsche Staatsoper, Barenboim, standing on a lifting platform while conducting cranes like an orchestra, attempting to impart order and measure to the unceasing movement of urban transformation. That perfectly orchestrated ballet, which Moretti renders in a small painting, already contains something of Tantalus’s condition. In the gap between the gesture of control and what that gesture cannot govern, a friction opens up: the desire to shape the world coincides with its continuous subtraction, with the impossibility of fully possessing its outcomes. It is perhaps within this tension that the image of the crane ballet painted by Moretti finds its strength: not as a simple narrative of the transition from a past of fractures to a future of reconstruction, but as a suspended figure of the present, still traversed by desires for order, promises of transformation, and ever-new forms of frustration. The cranes dance, the city recomposes itself, but the movement does not necessarily lead to a resolution. Like Tantalus, we are inside what we desire and, for this very reason, continuously exposed to its subtraction. Angelica Gatto, art critic and exhibition curator

WhatsApp Image 2026-1jhhbm0-26 at 17.15_edited.jpg

© Photo : Allison Borgo

WhatsApp Image 2026-10-2hgu6 at 17.15.23.jpeg

© Photo : Allison Borgo

WhatsApp gio2026-10-26 at 17.15.24.jpeg

© Photo : Allison Borgo

bottom of page