Some of Enzo Cucchi’s texts can best be styled poetic mysteries. “Yes, I am the Marches. See, I am a district,” he says in one of his poems; “Here it was, in Aritrezza, that the Cyclops hurled the rocks into the sea, and it is true, I can see the place where they fell.”

I recalled these lines when seeing a series of huge drawings made by Cucchi over the past few years. Everywhere there are boulders, hanging in the air, lying on the ground; they are apparently inspired by Cucchi’s experience at Aritrezza. These images seem a reference to the wanderings of Odysseus and his troubles with the Cyclops