They then come together and do their work. It is in their nature to propose a certain risk before their arrival. Once finished, they conceal the process that produced them, the wear and tear and the piercing. To reveal the needle is to catch a glimpse of the tortuous path that brought them here. In Zamproni's case, the question is: how can the improbable be shown? For some time now, he has been exploring this issue, measuring and filling spaces that do not yet exist. Seeing them is the first step. In the past, he used comfortable cushions to fill the emptiness of tents and buildings, made heavy pillars float on water, and built walls with zips. From beginning to end, the process is an exchange between idea and matter, a division of the territory between what is possible and the space available for the impossible to inhabit. The starting point always seems to be a big “what if?” The play on images and pretence goes further than it might at first appear because shape beckons the imaginary. The object is not only what it tries to be mimetically, but what lives in the familiar universe of things and their meanings. It therefore depends on the environment it inhabits and those who behold it: it challenges them with its strange body and invites them to remember the past.
The vital wefts that are woven here are not so obvious. From the museum to the city , they lay down a broad path that involves both memory and imagination. Yet, this seems to be the ideal path. Zamproni does not impose the meanings to be discovered; his objects take the lead in the conversation with perception, and engage the viewer's imagination. The dialogue between the museum and a large needle begins noisily, involving the eyes, the body and the environment in a vast stitch. However uncomfortable one may feel in their presence, this is what weaving wefts is all about.
Photograph: Kraw Penas.