Shinichi Maruyama exemplifies the Japanese concept of wabi-sabi–the beauty of things imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete. In his work, he captures the underlying principle of energetic interactions between forms. The artist first started halting the passage of time through images of suspended liquids forms intending to collide in mid-air. In his series Nudes, Maruyama has more recently collaborated with dancers to create a sense of motion in a single photograph, through layering different frames. In its spatial illusionism and meticulous details, he inevitably points to a vortex of visual forms and sensations, where spontaneity and control stand in perfect balance. The artist's status lies in his ability to create a new abstract visual language that generates motion and stillness in perpetuum.
Inspired by the exuberantly painted compositions of the Action Painters group of Abstract Expressionists, KwangHo Shin works with oil paint and charcoal on canvas to produce portraits that merge inner states with outer appearances. Often working at a grand scale, he creates sketchy, vigorously executed images of human figures, heads, and faces using a multicolored patchwork of brushstrokes. In some compositions, his brushstrokes obscure his figures, whose contours can just be made out amid the pigment. In others, faces and forms are more clearly articulated. The conglomerations of marks make such forms appear almost sculptural. By replacing flesh and features with thick strokes of pigment, Shin reflects the tumult of thoughts and emotions that lay concealed below our surfaces and that fundamentally shape our identities.
In a cobblestone alley near the Piazza del Popolo, a weather-striped window showcases the porcelain heads, limbs, and bodies of dolls long lost and in complete disrepair.
Above the ghastly repository of broken faces pressed to the glass, small owl figurines perch menacingly. What appears to be Rome's own little shop of horrors is actually the Restauri Artistici Squatriti, known to Romans as "un'ospedale delle bambole," or a dolls' hospital. Here, Federico Squatrito and his mother Gelsomina nurse ailing dolls and other porcelain objects back to health.
The minuscule workspace is approximately 50 square feet and pungent is the odor of glue and solvents, the "medications" Squatrito doles out to his porcelain patients. The walls and counters are covered with parts of broken toys and figurines, along with antique plates, vases, and any number of mysterious objects waiting for Squatrito to give them new life.
Though the cluttered shop might be intriguing enough to draw the attention of passersby, the contents of the collection are as worthy of a visit as the shop window itself. Because Squatrito is equally adept at repairing an ancient Roman platter as he is an heirloom plaything, visitors may encounter any number of curiosities – and stories – when they stop by.