Inspired by the organic dimensionality of the tree branches that form his stretchers, Giordano wraps and weaves webs of multicolored yarn to create his painting surface.

Somewhere between exhilarating strolls and endless daydreams, the paintings of Giordano open doors onto universes and atmospheres which invite the eye and the imagination to infinite digressions, but somehow always find the right balance in their integral ambiguousness. Rhythmic, almost musical, his work patiently threads every string of painting, observes them, and questions them one by one. Colour, matter, sculptural dimension of the painting, optical play… like so many ingredients which, when added one to the other in ever-changing expressions, keep the eye alert and the
mind awakened.

Through the incessant to-and-fro to which it subjects the eye and sensory stimulation it provokes, the art of Giordano imposes a raw, direct, frontal relationship that comes both from the artist’s own approach to painting, his work as a painter - never cheat! - and his openness to the paths of fiction.

The sheer “weight” of his works, their intense physicality in a concrete environment, boldly contradicts the spatial illusion of bi-dimensional space very much at work in the pre- modernist period. Conversely, the “objectification” of the painting, its three dimensional conception in a concrete environment, puts a stop to every illusionist temptation and pulls directly into reality.

«My process begins with the intent of unraveling certain romantic stereotypes surrounding art history, specifically “the old trope of the painter in his studio, agonizing in silence, waiting for a flash of inspiration--that stroke of genius that will provide the next excuse to pour his guts out on the canvas.”
My work is purposely laborious. It’s not predetermined by sketches, but meticulously pieced together like an evolving puzzle. I think of it as crafted rather than executed. The paintings and sculptures in That unicorn is probably going to die, divide into three distinct but overlapping series; Longpaintings, Unravel and Harpoons for hunting rainbows. These works are assembled using yarn, paint, tree branches and afghan blankets. To begin, I unroll skeins of yarn into long rows of colored string. Then, I line several strands side by side and knot them together, eventually compiling large mounds of colored material.

In the case of the Longpaintings, I use white yarn knots that are cut and adhered to canvas, eventually adding paint to finish the process. The exaggerated lengths of string that hang from the surfaces of the Longpaintings are meant to convey weight and gravity. I want these long strings to appear as fluid as tears, or be reminiscent of hair from a mask.

The Unravel paintings are made by first building a frame with tree branches, and then I use the strands of knotted yarn to wrap and weave a pseudo canvas while simultaneously pouring and dyeing the textiled surface with acrylic paint. As their title suggests, these works can be seen as falling apart, perhaps under their own weight. The yarn is knotted and tied as a way to hold the work together, but there exists an inherent anxiety and uncertainty as to the permanence of this gesture. By using tree branches in place of finished stretcher bars and unwoven yarn instead of a manufactured canvas I mean to reduce these paintings down to their essential structural elements.

Finally, the Harpoons for hunting rainbows are a kind of quixotic tool for capturing color (an essential element of any painting). Their title and weapon-like appearance points to the primitivism (or essentialism) present in all of the works in the exhibition. They are created by wrapping knotted strands of yarn around a tree branch over several days. In the end, there exists an ambiguity about whether these branches are protected by the yarn or suffocating in a cocoon of string.

The title of the exhibition, That unicorn is probably going to die refers to a time when childhood idealism is replaced by the reality of adulthood. It permits a space and time for fantasy, while acknowledging its transitory nature. In my work I represent this dichotomy through my chosen materials. I’m not interested in manipulating material to create illusions. I use yarn, blankets and tree branches because they have associations with the actual world, but the paint and color allow for fanciful flourishes where reality and fantasy can coexist. Within these works, I try not to choose one side over another, but instead draw attention to a time when their precarious balance is most present.»