A gaming arcade: a gallery of other realities, either fake or alternative, in which to fall and dive, headfirst. A parallel world of people trapped in their computers, blending with keyboards and screensavers, exploring other dimensions. Nature filtered by the digital ego, becoming a personal collateral. The arcade, after all, is not just for gamers.
Proportions that go mega, technology that becomes degraded shimmers and shines. Objects trapped within items of clothing and those screensavers that land over the body, on bags and accessories: that’s what happens in the gaming arcade. The message is one of realism – for whatever real can mean today – delivered with a reductionist language that charges each piece with the status of a blunt statement.
Following a path that goes from sunrise to sunset, the succession highlights the essential shapes, the magnified details, the plain yet twisted obviousness. Crumpled t-shirts with humongous washing tags; camisoles so big, one bra cup becomes the whole top; the waistline migrating to the neckline; giant keyboard keys as decorations, small key as a pavè on the whole top. Dresses are completely abstract in their balloon shape: a plastic bag, with a red fish trapped inside; a sculpted mirror; covered in prints worthy of a garden chair. Leisure is important, so a hammock becomes a dress while jumpers and tees hang from laundry hangers. A focus on the shoulder, hollowed out from the inside; shimmering tailoring and dresses. Tees, literally, as surfing boards. Finally, sunset on a second skin. All of it on boots, slippers, and bags that occasionally, become miniatures.
Size matters, for real.
