Luca Tridente was born in Turin on May 20, 1968. The son of an artist—his father Guido was a painter and sculptor who worked with some of the most prominent 20th-century artists, such as Enrico Baj—Luca was introduced to painting at a very young age. In 1982, he began working with charcoal, ink, and watercolor, and towards the late 1980s, he developed a brief passion for sketching and comics. A psychology graduate, his most intimate artistic exploration began in the early 1990s, but it was in 2010 that Tridente found the key to expressing his poetics and inner world. The artist's work has gone through several phases: at first, portraying himself through his totem animal, the Bull; later, reflecting on society and the stage of existence. In this latest phase, Tridente offers two perspectives: one with a negative connotation, and the other where humans encounter nature, bringing the viewer into a realm of trust and hope. The COVID years undoubtedly marked a crucial moment in all of our lives. The shared feeling of being collectively involved in a global event, while also experiencing deep loneliness, finds expression in Tridente’s work. Although stemming from the pandemic, this concept transcends the event and becomes an attitude applicable to many different contexts. We see large crowds moving without clear purpose, simply following the next “unmissable” event, in a shared motion where everyone remains fundamentally alone. It’s a façade of participation, where each person is an island—isolated. A striking example of this is the piece MoonWork. The movement becomes even more strenuous and uphill in the work Arbor vita, where the horizon becomes a symbolic slope representing the journey each individual undertakes. The passage across this fiery earth, where the red of the ground bleeds past the horizon and heats the canvas beyond its black line, is not a horizontal one. Curiously, the sparse figures in the painting cast no shadows—except for one pair: the couple of lovers whose shadows blend together into a single form. Here, the light of hope begins to flicker; shadows are cast only by what is true and authentic, by what is alive, and life is fulfilled in the act of love. The human figures in Tridente’s work are not characterized by adjectives: they have no mouths, no eyes, no distinguishing features. They are sparse, anorexic forms, worn down by the act of living, reminiscent of Alberto Giacometti’s sculptures or the synthetism of certain forms of primitive art. The artist seeks essence and speaks to the universal. Notably, in Tridente’s later works, a new presence begins to appear: Nature. An archetypal structure of nature takes shape in his work—specifically, the tree. The artist states that trees, to him, symbolize resilience: a resistance formed of roots and belonging. These elements establish a dialogue with humanity. In Sloping Souls, a single tree seems to be the destination of a pilgrimage, a sacred simulacrum toward which people move along their path. In Sicut arbor-sicut vita, the relationship is inverted: a single person inhabits a rich natural landscape, from which he remains distant, like a silent observer. In this case, the artist speaks of himself and of a contemplative dimension; the landscape becomes a projection of his inner reflection. Brown is the color of calm, of the earth, of the artists. Tridente sees the outer world with one eye and feels the inner world with the other. In Al di qua, by contrast, a single pair of figures—almost fused into one—is surrounded by nature. For once, the artist returns to the earth its ontological color: green. In this work, the dimension becomes almost Pan-like: the union of the masculine and the feminine, set within a deeply natural setting, evokes ancient alchemical symbols where man and woman, merging, engage with the forces of the cosmos to create. Everything vibrates, speaks of life, trust, and hope. Tridente seems to reassure his audience, telling us that life is complex, and though we may see daily performances of massive crowds of lonely men, even in that solitude we may find someone who helps us realign with the world and nature. In an era where we often feel distant and isolated, Tridente’s art becomes a bridge toward the unity of our parts, an invitation to recognize ourselves. Poetics In the work of Luca Tridente, the concept of apeiron unfolds as a void—an infinity hidden beneath forms and appearances, yet pointing to a state of constant oscillation between the individual and the world. Tridente's figures, slender and worn by the passage of time, evoke the archaic archetype of Alberto Giacometti, with their essence on the verge of vanishing. These images, despite their bare physicality, are not tied to individual identity, but rather express a universal, collective condition—a simulacrum of existential fragility. Using graphite, charcoal, and acrylic paint, Tridente relies on an abstract language to portray man suspended between life and death, between the here and the elsewhere. These figures, devoid of eyes and mouths, become emblematic of an existence marked by distortion, yet still carrying a hope for rebirth. Gold, for the artist, can be a powerful symbol of power—not only referring to the supernatural, but also offering a critical reflection on wealth and the economy. In this sense, gold becomes a symbol of a world that seeks to extract value from its contradictions—an apeiron that turns into material for exploitation and alienation, but also a symbol of hope in its possible reversal. The confusion between sky and earth, and the element of metal as a symbol of abstract, opaque power, prompts reflection on our contemporary condition: that of beings suspended between the divine and the earthly, living in the eternal conflict between creation and destruction.