With “DODO”, I wanted to create a sculpture that hurts, provokes, and simultaneously reveals the tragedy of our existence. For me, the dodo is a symbol of our destructive greed, our ignorance, and ultimately our weakness, to love what is irretrievable, what we ourselves have destroyed.
The bird is perched on a cross, an icon of atonement and sacrifice. Yet here, it is no saint, no figure of forgiveness. It is a witness. Its deformed body cries out for justice, for answers. The metallic surface reflects coldness and unapproachability, yet beneath lies a story of pain and fear.
“DOVRESTI AMARE CIÒ CHE HAI UCCISO”
“You should love what you have killed.” This sentence is the central idea behind the work. How can we feel love for something we have eradicated? The dodo, long gone from reality, lives on in our stories, a sad monument to our destructive power.
I see this sculpture not only as an accusation but also as a mirror. It confronts us with our hypocrisy: we speak of conservation while continuing to consume. We romanticize the past while simultaneously working to destroy a future. The grotesque proportions of the bird, its fixed stare, the drill-like tail, are meant to make this contradiction visible.
The cold, gleaming metallic effect is deliberately chosen: chrome steel. It symbolizes industry, progress, and alienation. The dodo, inspired by our Cruxials, appears almost mechanical, like a product of our technocratic world, where we have long since lost our connection to nature. Yet the material deceives, the bird remains a creature, a victim, torn between its past and human hubris.
The cross on which it sits gives the work a sacred strength. It is a symbol of sacrifice, guilt, and penance. But here, there is no forgiveness, no resurrection. The dodo remains a monument, a silent witness to what we have lost.
“DODO” was born from my anger and pain over the state of the world. The text that accompanies the sculpture is my inner monologue, a kind of dark litany:
“Maledetti i resurrezionisti!”
“Cursed be the resurrectionists!”
There is no return, no easy solution. Eradication and killing leave wounds that cannot heal.
The sculpture is my invitation to you, to the viewers: confront these uncomfortable questions. What have we destroyed, and how do we live with this guilt? Do we only want to dream of yesterday while destroying the future today?
“DODO” is a part of me, an attempt to shape my anger and grief. It is not a sculpture meant to bring comfort, and it was never my intention. It is meant to haunt you, to provoke you, to wake you up. It is up to you to endure the gaze of the bird and confront your own role in this story.
Carrara 2018
