There are many reasons to visit San Gimignano, its medieval towers, views of Tuscany, the perfect ice cream – but now, the most striking thing is found in the glowing old box in the heart of the town. Arcangelo Sassolino's latest exhibition “The Present Tenses” at Galleria Continua, collects new works that are both elements and unstable. Sculpture moving, dripping and almost breathing. In their core: oil, glass, steel and time.
Sassolino has long established its own practice on the edge of mechanics and poetics. His material is chosen not only for their visual quality as their ability to act: fail, bend, crack, or break expectations. At institutions like Palais de Tokyo, the Peggy Guggenheim series, and more than three decades of careers, and most recently, Sassolino continues to challenge the static image of sculpture, a choreography of instability and precision at the Biennial of Islamic Arts in Jeddah. Matter becomes a metaphorical space.
In the “present tense” he pushed this further. The liquid overflows and settles, and the steel hovers over its vulnerability, threatening the transformation every moment. On a quiet morning, after a bustling opening, observers sit down with Sassolino about the physics of existence, the temptation of unpredictability, and why letting go may be just the ultimate creative act.
What does “present time” mean to you?
The title comes from a conversation with my studio manager David, who has a great language. We rebounded back and forth, and the “present tense” felt right. It's simple, but sometimes it works best. This phrase resonates with the works I have shown and my broader approach to sculpture. What I think of is that something must happen in real time when the audience is present. I don't want to hide this intention. I am obsessed with the passage of time, so I use the material in a way that is almost time. The show tells about this urgency and illustrates the paradox: Now, when we admit this, it is now over. Like fluid, it slipped.
Can you tell me about the work of the view?
There are three main sculptures: rotating diameter rotating steel discs, each of which is coated with industrial oil. This oil will never dry. It remains thick, sticky and permanently moving. The disc rotates continuously, and if you want to stop, the entire installation will crash. Gravity pulls the oil downwards, creating a changing surface. No two moments are the same. This is a lively image of a constant flux.
There are more intimate fragments involving glass and weight. In one, a large granite rock is located on the jar. In the other, a heavy steel block is pressed against the bottle. These are works that I am particularly attached to. They seem simple, even mediocre, but the tension they hold is real. Materials are under pressure, and their fragility is not metaphorical, it is physical.
The tension in these works almost feels dramatic. Do you think they were performing?
I like that idea. They are activated. To me, work works like a countdown. You don't know if it will last another five minutes or five hundred years. This ambiguity produces a real emotional response. There is conflict within the material itself, which is the sustained potential for failure. But it's not just a symbolic gesture. I hope this vulnerability is factual, not fiction.
What draws you into materials like oil, glass and steel?
Throughout history, artists have tried to capture time using stable materials such as marble, bronze, or wood. But liquids, especially industrial oils, yes time. When you release liquid from the container, it starts to move. With these spinning discs, I give the oil a chance: unstable, moving, unpredictable. It doesn't want to be still. It wants to take up space and transfer form. That's exactly what I'm pursuing. The composition that exists in real time always changes.
Is your interest in steel related to its power?
Not exactly. I have a look at what happens when placing the material in an impossible relationship. When you put three hundred kilograms of steel on a glass bottle, you push things to the limit. This is a problem of friction, tension, incompatibility. That is where something meaningful reveals itself. When the collapse feels imminent.
Still there'SA clears the sense of control in your device. How much space do you want to leave for unpredictability?
There will always be a mixture. Some works were carefully tested in the recording studio with engineers and technicians. We know their limits. But other parts can resist calculations. Once installed in the exhibition space, their behavior can only be understood by experience. Even then things will change. This uncertainty is crucial. Every time, something that may or may not happen.
Do you like this unpredictability?
Very. Life itself is unpredictable. We don’t choose who we are from the beginning, everything can be changed immediately. My job needs to reflect this instability.
What do you think the system reveals when it is under pressure?
I believe that the artist is like an antenna picking up signals from the world around him. We absorb technology, science, politics and emotional flow. All of this filters into the work, usually without awareness. I don't always create from a rational place. Sometimes, I feel like I am my own witness, just unfolding in the form of the idea. I'm not going to represent the world, but I can't help but reflect it. Artists cannot escape their time – their products.
Some viewers associate your work with the vulnerability of contemporary society. Is that a fair reading?
This is not where I started, but I understand why people go there. Especially now, when everything is uncertain, it is easy to see these unstable objects as metaphors for social collapse. I'm not trying to illustrate this concept directly, but if the work evokes these feelings, I welcome it. This work itself is a subject. It does not require explanation.
you'VE said that art is to shape the future. How do you view your role as an artist?
I'm not sure artists must be ahead of their time, but I do think we have the unique ability to condense the present into form. That said, I do have the responsibility to move forward and go beyond traditions, even my rich traditions from Italian art. The challenge is to find new solutions, adopt new technologies and produce meaningful forms in today’s world. The chaos and instability in these liquids reflect the world we live in. This is not intentional, but it is inevitable.
What do you want to let go to reach the “present tense”?
Letting go is crucial – for artists and people in general. One of the works in the performance is titled No memory and no loss. It's about the idea to remember, you have to lose something. Part of the sculpture remains intact, but the other part drips. This is a form of disappearance.
To move forward, I had to post ideas from the past and open up for new possibilities. I am honored to be my journey, but I believe letting go is the most constructive way to face the future.
Arcangelo Sassolino's “Now”As of August 31, 2025, on display at Galleria Continua.
