One of the most felicitous syntheses that Le Corbusier was able to grasp during his journey across that sea he loved to call the «kingdom of forms and light», the Mediterranean, seems perhaps to lie within a habitus that gradually binds itself to an etymon capable, even today, of preserving an ethical and aesthetic interweaving around the very possibilities of dwelling. And for this reason, migrating through the Islamic tradition, it resurfaces in the Sicilian dialect verb azzizzàri (or azzizzare, azzizzàrisi), from the Arabic adjective, in its feminine form, ʿazīza («precious», «splendid», «beloved», «treasure»).

Whether it be the Arabic adjective, which properly designates what is precious and singular in the eyes of another in all its fullness, or the Sicilian verb which, in its transitive use, names the act of adorning, embellishing, bringing into prominence now with calculated ingenuity, now with extemporaneous spontaneity, the fact remains that, in both cases, what is ornament often comes to indicate the need to bring light and care to what has not yet surfaced, but already fully dwells within.

How could one not think then of an ornament that inscribes itself like a tattoo upon the body, on the balcony of a façade or across the surface of a building, as on a musical score or a page of literature… and that then reappears elsewhere, finding its place in a medieval illuminated manuscript, on a carpet, in a lacework, along the fabric of a garment, in the minute setting of a jewel, in a white church set within a landscape that still carries the memory of Africa, only to surface once more in a palm for the garden and, within the garden, for the house^[1].

In the background, the patience of a manner, the slow labor of poetry.

It is precisely by giving itself time and again through patient and slow glances cast upon materials at times rough, discarded, upon geometries of Arab-Norman matrix, upon curves marked by a Baroque sensibility, upon floral motifs from Liberty-style textiles, upon grotesques, or, once more, upon impressions of color and light, that Sonia Kacem’s (Geneva, 1985) research takes shape. Which, here on display at L’Ascensore, ensures that her visual armamentarium, first eagerly recorded as fragment through the painterly gesture of the brush and then tacitly preserved as a visual sketch in the small format of the sheet, exits its unexpressed dimension, opens itself and expands multidimensionally^[2] into space, only then to dissolve into ornamental fragments. A rhythm that generates forms, which the artist sets in motion and lets proliferate according to a logic that Henri Focillon would have defined as a true Vie des formes.

Translating the observation of places into an environment of color and form, and considering the latter now as volumes and spaces in themselves, the hybridization that Sonia Kacem composes between the pictorial construction of the pattern, calligraphic writing and the ornamental dimension resolves into a synthesis capable of allowing heterogeneous visual matrices to coexist within a single process.

The abstraction toward which the artist gravitates, and in relation to which, I believe, she carefully refrains from imposing coordinates that are now historically worn, such as those of abstraction and figuration, is rather to be understood as a fertile meeting point, capable of dissolving, deconstructing, and then recomposing the diverse tensions she contemplates and seeks to hold together, tensions that, moreover, we encounter in the watercolor prints adorning the walls and in the rough, textured, stylized cardboard forms, immersed in space so as to interrupt a certain irregular symmetry.

It is therefore not surprising that, even in geo-temporal contexts extremely distant from one another, one must turn to a certain morphology of ornament to explore a possible, never-divided relationship with the emergence of symbolization, and to attempt to read those very ancient signs as traces of a cosmological dialogue, in which the environment was not yet given in the separation of its parts, but as an indistinct, intensive unity traversed by rhythms and memories^[3].

One might well ask, even here in the exhibition, whether precisely where these heterogeneous lyrical effluvia free themselves from the phenomenal reality and arrange themselves as autonomous entities, they nonetheless continue to coexist, held together within their mutual relation.

At times, the watercolor prints, left by the artist to rest lightly and delicately on the surfaces, at other times, the cut-out forms, called instead to prevent the surface and the space itself from sliding into mere optical seduction, both are meant to operate within essential emotional registers, where the ornamental complex composed by Sonia Kacem seems to return to a source, and where a certain remote force of symbolization still operates. Thus, to the impression of the pale pink brushstroke which seems able to be both palm and flower, and to the purplish circular mark which aspires to unfold into a spiral, the pink hatching laid upon the arch is meant to evoke the golden calligraphic gesture placed on the ceiling’s surface with the possibility of being inscribed as an arabesque, becoming an inlay of light that radiates from the sky. At one moment, a shaped silhouette returns to being a proto-figure in motion, leaping or dancing, at another, the other form, the large curve seen in profile, like a coastline viewed from above or a nibbled leaf, folds once again into the shape of an egg, broken, fragmented.

And as this slow opening inclines toward a light that calls forth yet another light, endlessly, in a silent harmony, Sonia Kacem also allows with care and restraint a sound to emerge, the timbre of a voice that, here, whispers to its own treasure yā ʿazīztī.

Carlo Corona

­­­­ ————————————————

[1] Cf. M. Carboni, The Ornamental. Between Art and Decoration, Jaca Book, Milan 2000, p. 9.

[2] On the concept of a «exploded and multidimensional ornament», see: E. Bloch, Ornaments. Art, Philosophy and Literature, edited by M. Latini, foreword by E. Matassi, Armando Editore, Rome 2017, p. 20.

[3] See: A. Leroi-Gourhan, Gesture and Speech. Memory and Rhythms, Vol. II, Italiantranslation by F. Zannino, Mimesis, Sesto San Giovanni (Milan) 2018, pp. 446-448.

Una delle sintesi più felici che Le Corbusier seppe intercettare lungo il suo viaggio su quel mare che amava definire «re di forme e di luce», il Mediterraneo, sembra forse annidarsi in un habitus che via via si lega a un etimo capace di custodire ancora oggi un intreccio etico ed estetico attorno alle possibilità dell’abitare. E che, per questo, migrando attraverso la tradizione islamica, affiora nel verbo dialettale siciliano azzizzàri (o azzizzare, azzizzàrisi), dall’aggettivo arabo, declinato al femminile, ʿazīza («preziosa», «splendida», «amata»,
«tesoro»).
Che si tratti dell’aggettivo arabo, che designa propriamente ciò che è prezioso e singolare agli occhi di un altro in tutta la sua pienezza, oppure del verbo siciliano che, nel suo uso transitivo, nomina il gesto dell’adornare, dell’abbellire, del mettere in risalto ora con ingegno calcolato, ora con spontaneità estemporanea, fatto sta che, in entrambi i casi, ciò che è ornamento torna sovente a indicare l’esigenza di portare luce e cura a ciò che ancora non affiora alla superficie, ma che già dimora pienamente all’interno.
Come non pensare allora a un ornamento che si scrive come un tatuaggio sul corpo, sul balcone di una facciata o sulla superficie di un edificio, come su uno spartito musicale o su una pagina di letteratura… e che poi si dispone altrove, trovando posto su un codice miniato medievale, su un tappeto, in un merletto, lungo il tessuto di un abito, nella minuta incastonatura di un gioiello, in una stessa chiesa bianca posata in un paesaggio che porta ancora memoria d’Africa, per riapparire ancora in una palma per il giardino e, nel giardino, per la casa¹.
Sul fondo, la pazienza di una maniera, che è il lento lavoro della poesia.
Proprio nel darsi di volta in volta con pazienti e lenti getti d’occhio posati su materiali qua e là ruvidi, di scarto, su geometrie di matrice arabo-normanna, su curve dalla sensibilità barocca, su motivi floreali dei tessuti liberty, su grottesche o, ancora, su impressioni di colore e di luce, prende avvio la ricerca di Sonia Kacem (Ginevra, 1985). La quale, qui in mostra a L’Ascensore, fa sì che il suo armamentario visivo, prima bramosamente registrato come frammento attraverso il gesto pittorico del pennello e poi tacitamente custodito
come abbozzo visivo nel piccolo formato del foglio, esca dalla sua dimensione inespressa, si apra e si espanda pluridimensionalmente² nello spazio, per poi sciogliersi in brani ornamentali.
Un ritmo che genera forme, che l’artista mette in movimento e lascia proliferare secondo una logica che Henri Focillon avrebbe definito una vera e propria Vie des formes.
Traducendo l’osservazione dei luoghi in un ambiente di colore e forma, e considerando questi ultimi ormai come volumi e spazi in sé stessi, l’ibridazione che Sonia Kacem compone tra costruzione pittorica del pattern, scrittura calligrafica e dimensione ornamentale si risolve in una sintesi capace di far convivere matrici visive eterogenee entro un unico processo.
L’astrazione cui l’artista tende, infatti, e rispetto alla quale, credo, si guarda bene dall’opporre coordinate ormai storicamente logore, come quelle di astrazione e figurazione, è piuttosto da ricondurre a un fecondo punto d’incontro capace di sciogliere, destrutturare e poi ricomporre le tensioni diverse alle quali pensa e che vuole tenere insieme, e che ritroviamo, d’altronde, nelle pittografie acquarellate stampate a ornare le pareti e nelle sagomature in cartone grezzo, materico, stilizzato, immerse nello spazio a interrompere una certa simmetria irregolare.
Non può sorprendere, allora, che anche in contesti geo-temporali lontanissimi sia a una certa morfologia dell’ornamento che occorra risalire per interrogare un possibile rapporto mai scisso con l’emergere della simbolizzazione, e per tentare di leggere quei segni antichissimi come tracce di un dialogo cosmologico, ove l’ambiente non si dava ancora nella separazione delle sue parti, ma come una unità indistinta e intensiva attraversata da ritmi e memorie³.
È il caso di chiedersi, anche qui, in mostra, se proprio là dove questi eterogenei effluvi lirici si svincolano dalla realtà fenomenica e si dispongono come entità autonome, essi nondimeno continuino a vivere insieme, raccolti nella reciproca relazione.
Ora le pittografie acquarellate, lasciate dall’artista a posarsi, leggere e lievi, sulle superfici, ora le sagomature, chiamate invece a impedire che la superficie e lo spazio stesso scivolino in una pura seduzione ottica, entrambe vogliono agire entro registri emotivi essenziali, dove il complesso ornamentale composto da Sonia Kacem sembra tornare a una sorgente, e dove opera ancora una certa forza remota della simbolizzazione.
Così, all’impressione della pennellata rosa tenue che sa di poter essere anche palma o fiore, e al segno circolare purpureo che aspira a compiersi in spirale, il tratteggio anch’esso rosa adagiato sull’arco richiama il gesto calligrafico posato sulla superficie del soffitto alla possibilità di inscriversi come arabesco, facendosi intarsio di luce che
dardeggia dal cielo. Ora una silhouette sagomata torna a essere una proto-figura in movimento, in salto o danzante, ora l’altra, la grande curva osservata di profilo, come una costa vista dall’alto o una foglia rosicchiata, si raccoglie nuovamente nella forma di un uovo, spezzato, frammentato.
E mentre quest’apertura, lenta, si inclina verso una luce che chiama altra luce, senza fine, in un accordo muto, anche Sonia Kacem lascia affiorare con misura e cura un suono, il timbro di una voce che, ecco, sussurra al proprio tesoro yā ʿazīztī.

Carlo Corona

­­­­ ————————————————

1 Cfr. M. Carboni, L’ornamentale. Tra arte e decorazione, Jaca Book, Milano 2000, p. 9.

2 Sul concetto di «ornamento esploso e pluridimensionale» si veda: E. Bloch, Ornamenti. Arte, filosofia e letteratura, M. Latini (a cura di), prefazione di E. Matassi, Armando Editore, Roma 2017, p. 20.

3 Si veda: A. Leroi-Gourhan, Il gesto e la parola. La memoria e i ritmi, Vol. II, trad. it. di F. Zannino, Mimesis, Sesto San Giovanni
(Milano) 2018, pp. 446-448.

Sonia Kacem, Azizti, silk-screen printing, cardboard and metal. Exhibition view, 2026 
Photo © Fausto Brigantino. Courtesy L'Ascensore

One of the most felicitous syntheses that Le Corbusier was able to grasp during his journey across that sea he loved to call the «kingdom of forms and light», the Mediterranean, seems perhaps to lie within a habitus that gradually binds itself to an etymon capable, even today, of preserving an ethical and aesthetic interweaving around the very possibilities of dwelling. And for this reason, migrating through the Islamic tradition, it resurfaces in the Sicilian dialect verb azzizzàri (or azzizzare, azzizzàrisi), from the Arabic adjective, in its feminine form, ʿazīza («precious», «splendid», «beloved», «treasure»).

Whether it be the Arabic adjective, which properly designates what is precious and singular in the eyes of another in all its fullness, or the Sicilian verb which, in its transitive use, names the act of adorning, embellishing, bringing into prominence now with calculated ingenuity, now with extemporaneous spontaneity, the fact remains that, in both cases, what is ornament often comes to indicate the need to bring light and care to what has not yet surfaced, but already fully dwells within.

How could one not think then of an ornament that inscribes itself like a tattoo upon the body, on the balcony of a façade or across the surface of a building, as on a musical score or a page of literature… and that then reappears elsewhere, finding its place in a medieval illuminated manuscript, on a carpet, in a lacework, along the fabric of a garment, in the minute setting of a jewel, in a white church set within a landscape that still carries the memory of Africa, only to surface once more in a palm for the garden and, within the garden, for the house^[1].

In the background, the patience of a manner, the slow labor of poetry.

It is precisely by giving itself time and again through patient and slow glances cast upon materials at times rough, discarded, upon geometries of Arab-Norman matrix, upon curves marked by a Baroque sensibility, upon floral motifs from Liberty-style textiles, upon grotesques, or, once more, upon impressions of color and light, that Sonia Kacem’s (Geneva, 1985) research takes shape. Which, here on display at L’Ascensore, ensures that her visual armamentarium, first eagerly recorded as fragment through the painterly gesture of the brush and then tacitly preserved as a visual sketch in the small format of the sheet, exits its unexpressed dimension, opens itself and expands multidimensionally^[2] into space, only then to dissolve into ornamental fragments. A rhythm that generates forms, which the artist sets in motion and lets proliferate according to a logic that Henri Focillon would have defined as a true Vie des formes.

Translating the observation of places into an environment of color and form, and considering the latter now as volumes and spaces in themselves, the hybridization that Sonia Kacem composes between the pictorial construction of the pattern, calligraphic writing and the ornamental dimension resolves into a synthesis capable of allowing heterogeneous visual matrices to coexist within a single process.

The abstraction toward which the artist gravitates, and in relation to which, I believe, she carefully refrains from imposing coordinates that are now historically worn, such as those of abstraction and figuration, is rather to be understood as a fertile meeting point, capable of dissolving, deconstructing, and then recomposing the diverse tensions she contemplates and seeks to hold together, tensions that, moreover, we encounter in the watercolor prints adorning the walls and in the rough, textured, stylized cardboard forms, immersed in space so as to interrupt a certain irregular symmetry.

It is therefore not surprising that, even in geo-temporal contexts extremely distant from one another, one must turn to a certain morphology of ornament to explore a possible, never-divided relationship with the emergence of symbolization, and to attempt to read those very ancient signs as traces of a cosmological dialogue, in which the environment was not yet given in the separation of its parts, but as an indistinct, intensive unity traversed by rhythms and memories^[3].

One might well ask, even here in the exhibition, whether precisely where these heterogeneous lyrical effluvia free themselves from the phenomenal reality and arrange themselves as autonomous entities, they nonetheless continue to coexist, held together within their mutual relation.

At times, the watercolor prints, left by the artist to rest lightly and delicately on the surfaces, at other times, the cut-out forms, called instead to prevent the surface and the space itself from sliding into mere optical seduction, both are meant to operate within essential emotional registers, where the ornamental complex composed by Sonia Kacem seems to return to a source, and where a certain remote force of symbolization still operates. Thus, to the impression of the pale pink brushstroke which seems able to be both palm and flower, and to the purplish circular mark which aspires to unfold into a spiral, the pink hatching laid upon the arch is meant to evoke the golden calligraphic gesture placed on the ceiling’s surface with the possibility of being inscribed as an arabesque, becoming an inlay of light that radiates from the sky. At one moment, a shaped silhouette returns to being a proto-figure in motion, leaping or dancing, at another, the other form, the large curve seen in profile, like a coastline viewed from above or a nibbled leaf, folds once again into the shape of an egg, broken, fragmented.

And as this slow opening inclines toward a light that calls forth yet another light, endlessly, in a silent harmony, Sonia Kacem also allows with care and restraint a sound to emerge, the timbre of a voice that, here, whispers to its own treasure yā ʿazīztī.

[1]Cf. M. Carboni, The Ornamental. Between Art and Decoration, Jaca Book, Milan 2000, p. 9.

[2] On the concept of a «exploded and multidimensional ornament», see: E. Bloch, Ornaments. Art, Philosophy and Literature, edited by M. Latini, foreword by E. Matassi, Armando Editore, Rome 2017, p. 20.

[3] See: A. Leroi-Gourhan, Gesture and Speech. Memory and Rhythms, Vol. II, Italiantranslation by F. Zannino, Mimesis, Sesto San Giovanni (Milan) 2018, pp. 446-448.