Antonio Nasuto - Wet eyes

Antonio Nasuto graduates in Architecture from the University of Naples, where he subsequently completes a three-year specialization in Design. This multidisciplinary training decisively influences his visual language, characterized by formal rigor and attention to the structure of the image. He is currently teaching Artistic Anatomy at the Academy of Fine Arts of Foggia, alongside teaching activity a constant pictorial research focused on the human body and the narrative dimension of the figure. He exhibits in solo and collective exhibitions at national and international level. Among the main ones: the solos at the Palazzetto dell’Arte in Foggia (2002, 2003), the collective dedicated to P. P. Pasolini at the Tribunale della Dogana in Foggia (2007), 150 Souvenirs d’Italie at the Gallery of Modern and Contemporary Art “Atelier degli Artisti” in Rome (2011), Il filo di Arianna. Labirinto fisico e mentale at Palazzo delle Arti Beltrani in Trani (2011), the solo show at Palazzo Ducale Paternò Caracciolo in Pietrara melara (2013) and L’ospite inatteso in Villetta Barrea (2016).

There are moments when love no longer speaks, yet continues to be felt.
In this work, the two women seem to be right there: at the exact point where what unites them wobbles, but does not fully yield. There is a new distance, and yet it is full of presences.
One of them keeps a pain that cannot be spoken. She holds it in her hands, protects it and at the same time fears it, as if it were a part of herself that suddenly weighs more than the rest. The other remains, despite everything. Her gaze does not accuse nor console: it searches. It searches for what is being lost, what perhaps can no longer be saved, and what the two of them would have liked to hold tight.
In the middle, almost as a translation of their inner state, a warning: Wet Eyes.
It is not a label, but a condition. Those watery eyes are the proof that love, when real, never leaves one unscathed. The heart slides, stumbles, hurts right where it thought it was strongest.
And then there is that silent presence, red as a memory that burns: the mannequin.
It is not an object, but a possibility. A third party that occupies the air between them: a memory, a desire, an ideal, a doubt. It has no face, and for this reason it can take a thousand forms. It is what divides, what confuses, what remains suspended even when everything is quiet.
This painting does not tell a scene; it tells an crossing.
The fragile passage in which love between women—and any love that dares to be full—shows its vulnerability.
It is a moment in which it becomes clear that no bond is immune to cracks, and that those very cracks, sometimes, are the only possible truth.
Because there are stories measured not by what is said, but by what remains in the eyes when words fail.
And here, in the wet eyes of both, there is still everything to read.