A game room: a place of other realities, false or alternative, where you can fall and dive headlong. A parallel world of people trapped in their computers, mixed with keyboards and screensavers, as they explore other dimensions. Nature filtered by the digital ego becomes a personal guarantee. The arcade, despite everything, isn’t just for gamers.
Proportions that dress large, technology that becomes degraded and that glitters and sparkles. Objects trapped inside clothing and screensavers landing on the body, bags and accessories – this is what happens in the arcade. The message is a message of realism – however real it may seem today – spread with a reductionist language that loads every single piece with the status of a direct statement.
Following a journey that goes from sunrise to sunset, the route emphasizes the essential forms, the exaggerated details, the simple but complex obviousness. Crumpled T-shirts with giant washing labels; large shirts, a bra cup becomes a top; the waist moves towards the neckline; the giant frets of a keyboard as decorations, a small fret as a pavé on the whole top. The clothes are completely abstract in their balloon shape: a plastic bag, with a goldfish trapped inside; a carved mirror; covered in prints worthy of a garden chair. Free time is important, so a hammock is transformed into a dress, while sweaters and T-shirts are hung on laundry hangers. A focus on the shoulder, hollowed out from the inside; tailoring and iridescent dresses. T-shirts, literally, like surfboards. Finally, the sunset on a second skin. All this on boots, slippers and bags that occasionally become tiny.
Size matters, for real.
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