Son of art, Marco Tamburro begins his training between architecture, scenography and art, first in Perugia, where he was born, then in Milan and then in Rome where he now lives and works. It is here that his career begins. He participates in many exhibitions, personal and group among galleries and museums, always well received. The latest at Maxxi. 

The works that now he exhibits at Strati d'Arte bear witness to his thematic and pictorial evolution, born from the imagination of the author’s cartoon, from Gian Luigi Bonelli to Hugo Pratt, to Tiziano Sclavi, without forgetting the sisters Giussani, and the spatiality of his experience in scenography and advertising. He dedicates generous quotes to graffiti, even the most brutal and invasive. In this group of works, Tamburro erect a wall/walls with which he divides the pictorial and philosophical space between the known and the unknown, between what has happened and what will happen, between the inevitable and the aspiration. The Di Qua contains all the noise of urban meltingpot (or lived) whipped by tense cables and mixed hieroglyphics, with an ingenious quote from Mimmo Rotella, to shreds of movie posters, advertising, clowns and waste materials.

 Objects outside dimension, isolating themselves become protagonists as memories of a lived: an armchair, two men who seem to dance, the Blues Brothers, an astronaut, Pinocchio, a seductive woman. The wall/walls, breaking upwards, marks the demarcation between that noise animated by chromatic contrasts that describe so well its noises, and then.

There is silence, light, the undefined, a hope, an abstraction, a moment of reflection, the canvas waiting to be painted. Chinese shadows appear, one, two and then another world: tightrope walkers, the thinker of Rodin, the reflection of pinocchio, the lie of our city lives, swings, children suspended on chairs in a luna park, a diver. Silhouettes that attract us and that in their muteness invite us to cross that wall. In observing those scenes we can find ourselves, mend memories, be melancholic or even serene. The artist looks at us and waits for our choice inviting us to cross that "hedge" together, a force that places limits on our knowledge, but which allows us to wander with imagination in search of opportunities to seize, as suggested by Leopardi in his Infinite.

Angelo Bucarelli