Having worked for 20 years in personal and collectives exhibitions, Cristiano and Patrizio have 20 collections, more than 300 works, 20 art catalogs; 30 patrons; participation in international art exhibitions and a painting and sculpture workshop, a 1,000 sqm workshop that welcomes their magnificent world. Info and details on www.officinalvitirooms.com

Art is an agent of emotions; he is relived; and do” .

Art is scream and desperate attempt, boomerang to be launched waiting for return; and it is a continuous search for the meaning of things.

Art is man, existence, life, everything.

Info and insights on www.officinalvitirooms.com

ARCHEOVERTIGO (2009) by Philippe Daverio

One hundred years ago the disruptive path of futurism began. It was not at all a school of figurative or poetic aesthetics; it took tangible form only in its subsequent becoming. It was at first a powerful gesture of rupture in a world that had become definitively static, which rejected any hypothesis of evolution beyond the apparently stable certainties of the liberal bourgeoisie of Europe. It was the cry of liberation from the bonds of respectability and in this sense the first moment of self-consciousness of all the subsequent avant-gardes. Going “against” was his primal creed. It arose in an era of comfortable taste and obsessive and obsessive tranquility. He defended the growing generations who were denied the right to their expression, their independence. He wanted to break the respectability, the balance, the security of the established powers.

And today we are basically at the point and at the head!

The avant-gardes have become a sort of late medieval scholasticism that is taught beyond boredom in academies. Magazines in most cases are advertising containers in search of conformist consensus. Public exhibition facilities are aligned with the indications of a market that is theoretically stabilized by the sanctions of auction houses’ hammers. And international trade, founded on credits where finance has supplanted the intellect, emerges from a global crisis by proposing reserve goods stored in the same warehouses as disused goods. The public is asked to perpetuate the applause. Stop…

Today’s Italy is obviously not that of Marinetti. His was moving from the poetic agriculture of the nineteenth-century contests to the tensions of modernity. It opened to Europe, which was then Paris with the Sempione tunnel. He passed from Crispi’s right hand to the dream of a thousand arnachians waiting for the verb Pascoliano that would have made the Great Proletarian move towards successes of junk in unlikely colonies. He was incredibly optimistic and convinced to conquer the future. Ours, today’s, is depressed in a transversal excitement between cowards and illiterates. And as such it is considered by the international community, which cynical did not wait any better to deny us any right to creativity beyond that of the undeniable chefs, seamstresses and designers of ashtrays. Competition between the arts is not unlike that between dairy products and wines: it does not exclude any kind of low blow. Looking with superiority at our miserable indigenous reactions, art financiers have drowned us in methanol wine.

Today it becomes essential to brush up on the fighting spirit that made Marinetti a hero. His declamations of the first Trieste-based Futurist evening of the ’10 o’clock were to be extracted when he maintained that, to keep alive obsolete and dead literature, a talented poet was killed every day.

Criticism now returns to militancy, cancels the norms of good manners, abolishes any certainty of shared elegance. It goes back into the mud of everyday life. He does not want to discover the supreme genius who would love the accountant looking for investment opportunities. He wants to find life, in all its contradictory variations, beyond the boring parameters of good taste. He does not want a school of thought and even less an aesthetic figure to hang on his lapel. He wants energy.

Research in art always takes place behind the scenes of the vast commercial show.

It does not cure immediate results or blatant consents, it lives thanks to the careful understanding of those few who understand what is happening beyond what appears.

And then the great upheavals that history presents as proof of their vitality are happening.

This is what happens today. The world is taking another direction.

Inexorably, it will find itself abandoning the hypothesis of a unique language, spoken or visual, in which to recognize oneself.

The pathetic question of tolerated niches has been overcome, since the authentic languages ​​of the various identities are being formed, those that will comprise the kaleidoscope of the world of tomorrow.

Tomorrow will be full of fierce contradictions, of cruel comparisons, between intellectual-caped Americans, gothic Germans and French jewelers, between Japanese conceptual and twisted Chinese, between barbarian execs of painted walls, oriental iconoclasts and nomadic maniacs of hyperdecorated, African trinkets gifted and Arabs dedicated to the most sophisticated calligraphies. The geopolitical banalities of a grand hotel living room correct will be thrown into the dustbin of history.

And the Italians will come back to tell them, not only at the Sunday market or on the Friday night television, but in the cosmopolitan joy of the perennial confrontation of ideas and aesthetics.

They will come back as cackling as in the Venices of Carpaccio, Canaletto, Boldini and Tancredi, they will come back as serious as in the grays and in the rusts of Leonardo, Piccio, Fontana and Armani, they will return formally recalling the Florentine design and the passion for light that unites Botticelli and Fattori, will return baroque, to pure olive oil as in Genoa, to cream as a Naples, with tomato sauce as in Rome.

The Alviti’, perhaps even unconsciously, have for years been following a path that leads in this direction. They are Romans and for this specific reason they are naturally baroque.

DI LUCI e D’OMBRE (2006) by Sergio Rossi

In the field of art history the case of two painter brothers is not particularly rare, but much rarer is the case of two brothers working in perfect harmony and harmony, without one personality prevailing over the other and indeed in such a way that the final result of his work is absolute equilibrium: the case, in fact, of Cristiano and Patrizio Alviti. Since its birth, figurative art has had to deal with its dual nature, always poised between intellectuality and dexterity, and its protagonists have now been assimilated to simple artisans and now elevate to the rank of intellectuals. In short, it was the perennial conflict between form and matter, between idea and practice, which has characterized the history of painting, sculpture and architecture since the classical era.


Cristiano Alviti is a roman artist who works in continuous dialogue with his brother Patrizio. Characteristic of its production is an excellent craftsmanship. Years of apprenticeship with the brush in hand and a notable curiosity led him to select two techniques with which he feels more comfortable; watercolor and bronze. With the latter it is obtaining valuable results. Critiano Alviti takes the raw object out of the casting and finishes it and partially polishes it. These bodies are suffering. That which tears them apart is not external to them but their own thinking. They are empty shells. Nymphs that devoured the butterfly. Homes of the uninhabited soul. The bodies seem to have become ruins. Having left the partially rough object helps to imagine this dimension. The body as of the expressive possibility, of a desire to live and do that does not accept the limit of the five senses to receive and of the word and hands to give? The meticulous caries of suffering works and is in progress. The tension is expressed by the tendons of the neck and the muscles of the thorax that transmit the idea of ​​a power all stretched in resisting metaphoric flames. The limbs are not present. The body is summarized, simplified in the trunk and in the head. The place of the heart and the viscera added to the place of thought. Here is the man standing in thought that consumes it like a flame. Only twist is allowed. Patrizio Alviti Brother of Cristiano. The initial words I spent on my brother are valid. These two artists are able if they want to represent the most beautiful beauty that could be desired and if a man analyzes the female body, we can well imagine what disasters can create for our hormones and our perennially thirsty ideals. But if the body does not shine for pure aesthetic beauty and becomes the shell of its inner life, here is the female nude, which we will observe will leave the hormones in peace and will be thought of. Martin Buber said that the only enigma of existence is the other. His house, his temple is the body, this mediator that makes visible a thought, a being other than us that could reveal other unexpected versions of the gift of life. Even the male nude has its own charm. Let us bear in mind that the actuality based exasperatedly on visual products is almost entirely in the hands of the female body, and more surprisingly we think of a heterosexual man who analyzes with interest a similar body but not the same as his own. Patrick is a sportsman of a good level and it happens that each of them identify their body as an essence that can be perfected but with well-defined characteristics. He has broad shoulders, noticeable pectorals sculpted by swimming and so on. When he took a different physique from his own because the sporting use that his owner has chosen is different, he has discovered a harmony different from his own and endowed with an elegance that has revealed to him a world of expressive possibilities which he did not suppose. ‘existence. A diver, slimmer perhaps, less tied to the expression of a powerful athletic gesture, detached from the battle that represents the essence of water polo Patrizio.Il diver who in this case is the mystic other is more mental, tending to the calibrated gesture and meticulous that becomes the mirror of an elegance, of a harmony that passes from the tame body, to the measure to settle in a world of thought to be discovered.

FINESTRE (2004) by Laura Clemens

As one who travels in geographical reality, we travel in our inner world. When we face a subject, when we are confronted with an event, with a reality, with the sensations that arouse us, we are confronted at the same time with the awareness of that same topic. Every time we live an experience, we gather a opportunity in our life, and we would like to start and complete every situation without aftermath, something not always possible, this same event is experienced again in the memory, reworked and internalized. This path is common to all: of every event that is part of the our life there are flash memories, sometimes images or words, more often only sensations, colors, portions of images, often only fragments.This process forms the baggage of our memory, accessible to each of us, it becomes difficult to open a gap because others can enter our experience, our feelings. Through a window, real or virtual, we can focus our attention on a fragment of life, on a single event, be it an action or an emotion of our daily life, as well as on our feelings. (On a portion of the horizon and also of feelings.) So that window also acts as a magnifying glass for the single event, which comes to assume the importance given to all that can be brought into the memory and consequently internalized.This it can be brought back to a snapshot of our emotions.

ARBOREA (2003) by Scarpa

Two young people in love with the woods. Of their poetry, their beauty, their charm. In their views, nature represents at the same time something real and unreal. Two painters and two passionate naturalists, who took care of the problem of ecology and respect for the environment. These trees without horizon, sometimes clear and sometimes abstract, are studied with imagination in the different seasons and hours of the day and have the charm of a long lost time, immersed as they are in the silence of a nature that still seems uncontaminated man. The drama with which the artists raise the problem of pollution and the lack of respect for nature in no uncertain terms, testifies to the sincerity with which they have faced all the work, with a genuine affection for the theme.

ARBOREA (2003) by Werner

We are therefore in a wood. I think these “journeys” that offer us the gradual variation of a subject, (whether it be a feeling or a bull or a tree), are one of the most complete forms of the art of our time. A friend who paints, after having simply seen the pictures of the works exhibited here, told me that Cristiano and Patrizio had managed to do something good even though they had chosen a chopped and retreated subject like the wood, the tree, etc. This friend paints and has obviously a clinical eye more reliable than mine that I have chosen to express myself in art writing and I find that it is certainly not wrong. The subject is more than navigated, but in this exhibition it maintains its stature because it offers us an evolution, a film of interiority experienced and reproduced with immediacy. The quick and nervous touch in the realization of some canvases arises from the care to reduce to a minimum the difference in time between the proven state of mind and its representation on the canvas. It is a bit ‘as if trying to be immediate, but as it is reduced, this gap exists and is made of memorizing this inner state and its remediation. It will not be necessary to say more. Where there is a more delicate technique, closer to a harmonized aesthetic sense that could be called beauty, we feel the thought that blunt the sharpest points of a possible sweetness that risks becoming pathetic or the abysses of a sadness that if exasperated becomes pure black or pure fire red without high or low or sense of depth or anything else that can be understood as a result of coherence. In the end but right at the bottom of our psyche language is not that of words. The soul uses the symbols and the speech becomes complicated but intuitive.

ARCO PICIOCCO (2003) by Paola Magni

A mosaic is like a person: seen from a distance it looks like a compact, homogeneous surface. If you look around the street strangers seem a bit ‘all the same, only knowing them you notice the differences, the peculiarities, the facets of the personality. Thus the mosaic. From a distance it seems almost a painting with a slightly angular shape, then, as you approach it, you notice the nuances, the shadows, the lights but above all you can see the true texture of the surface. Not one, but thousands of surfaces make up the mosaic, and it is this interaction of bodies that defines its nature, just as in a person there are many aspects that define its personality. In a mosaic each card has its own ancient history, which is written in the stratification of colors, in the veins, in the brightness of the piece, which is in turn reshaped to become part of a whole. If a life is composed of many events, in turn it is a day and in turn all the minutes that make up the hours, even if turning back, from a distance you risk seeing a flat surface. Some pieces in these mosaics are brighter than others, as some memories light up in the mind or some moments bring a glow into our eyes. Why look far away if in the most common events of everyday life we ​​can find so much poetry?

I PONTI DI ROMA (2004) by Paola Magni

Subtle and vibrant material, which separates heaven and earth, solid and millennial matter, which dissolves, reflected in water, in deep transparencies and deforming explosions of color. Sinuous and insinuating spots that reveal the true intention of the artists: to investigate the human soul on the dualism between being and appearing, expressing and telling the self in relation to the different from oneself. Artistic research is therefore an instrument of inner research and contact with the world.

DI LUCI E D’OMBRE (2006) By Werner

These bodies are thought. You can ask yourself who the model is, but you do not have a picture of her. You will not see it easily. You have the thought of an artist who starts from the true body unknown to you. You have the vision that started from the eyes was exhausted by something that is a feeling that you know you have, but do not take it beyond a moment of clear thinking. The artist collects that moment. A body, a person. Understanding is the highest form of possession. Leave the other free. It does not necessarily pass through the body. The way that passes from his flesh is not said to even lead to the heart. Watercolor spots, rough paper.

You take refuge in the matter. Thought is not usual in everyday life. Life is made of haste. The body is sinuous, the line widens behind. It expresses a more subtle, more mental force than what Patrizio would put in a self-portrait. Not that there is only force in water polo, but elegance certainly has less chance of showing itself.

Faces parade. They look at me. They do not judge. I let them do it. There is also a self-portrait. They attract me. I like to see how a person sees himself. How does he feel. There is too much beauty in the world. Those eyes know it. Beauty that becomes therefore cruel, an end in itself. When does adolescence end? When you understood it. When you know how great those things are, those people, those words, those gestures, which are worthy of being remembered.