“It seems very pretty,' she said when she had
finished it, 'but it's rather
hard to understand!' (You see she didn't like to confess, ever to herself, that
she couldn't make it out at all.) "Somehow
it seems to fill my head with ideas — only I don't exactly know what they
are! However somebody killed something: that’s clear at
any rate”
Lewis Carroll, Through the
Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There (1871)
Amo il nonsense: mi rallegra e mi rattrista insieme.
E’ un genere per sua natura indefinibile, autoreferenziale,
spesso parassita, che rivela il lato sinistro e asimmetrico della realtà.
Di un assurdo umorismo grottesco, con una consistente
dimensione drammatica
che si muove tra l’intellettualistico e l’infantile,
il caos e l’ordine, tra tarapia e tapioco
che
rifiuta di dare importanza soltanto a ciò che ha un senso privilegiando ciò che,
apparentemente, non ne ha.
Un genere che può paradossalmente toccare livelli di
senso che vanno oltre il suo apparente aspetto bizzarro e surreale.
Le mie
illustrazioni vogliono essere un omaggio alla mia ampia fetta di cervello nonsense,
che già da quando era bambina mi faceva apparire tutto come una tragedia in due
battute.
There was an Old Person whose habits,
Induced him to feed upon rabbits;
When he'd eaten eighteen,
He turned perfectly green,
Upon which he relinquished those habits.
When he'd eaten eighteen,
He turned perfectly green,
Upon which he relinquished those habits.
There was an Old Lady whose folly,
Induced her to sit on a holly;
Whereon by a thorn,
Her dress being torn,
She quickly became melancholy.
Whereon by a thorn,
Her dress being torn,
She quickly became melancholy.
There was an Old Man of the North,
Who fell into a basin of broth;
But a laudable cook,
Fished him out with a hook,
Which saved that Old Man of the North.
But a laudable cook,
Fished him out with a hook,
Which saved that Old Man of the North.
