Margherita Morgantin’s photographs are tracks of fleeting performances in the city space. Her settings are interstitial places, incoherent grounds, corners of unrecognisable towns: it is no use trying to make out Eastern Europe and Northern Italy suburbs. It isn’t a question of some loss of identity. It rather has to do with something like shared identities. Town spaces, family likeness, different position on the map but still the same present-day parents: exceedingly efficient when it’s a matter of organising, but incapable of taking care of their growing up sons.
Margherita Morgantin explores the condition of almost-nothing, the aesthetics of emptiness; she picks up, as settings to turn her actions into photographs, those spaces idly fallen out the line production. In some previous works, instead, she had chosen some significant town corners caught out of time. Time and space: being out of them both, escaping the rules of profit, staging a surprise. Something unforeseen, outlines which are as thin as desires. Simple actions, something only suggested ones; it may be enough a gesture, a glance, the movement of watching. Images taking place among the tracks of already known life, images suggesting opportunities, dreams silently slipping into nightmares, back-and-forth travels between heaven and hell. It’s a slight resistance against the everyday show, a theatre instead of cinema, and mainly to be personally experienced. No stand-in, especially in dangerous scenes. Other performers may be called in, but only when it’s strictly necessary.