Florio Puenter’s rustic forma mentis is, at times, almost banal but it is in fact its very Freudian heimlich that gives life to the image, one which is no longer reassuring in its attempt to deceive our way of looking at it. Leaving to one side the photographic tinting, the retina’s attentive passivity lingers on the ad-apareo and takes in the landscape’s immediacy, its ‘familiarity’ which it changes into its opposite, into unheimlich (1) (the epiphany hides those aspects/elements of reality which they, in turn, had hidden).
An exceptional problem worries us from childhood onwards: When a tree falls in an uninhabited forest, does it make a noise? Or, in other words, does something exist when there is no one to see it?
“I am looking at the eyes that looked on the Emperor” Roland Barthes commented on seeing a photograph of Girolamo, the last brother of Napoleon. Other, though similar, eyes are those which Puenter would like to take over and possess. His pictures might seem to be après nature, though in fact they are only après: of/after unknown people, because his photos follow in the footsteps of old photos (anonymous, as I said) which immortalise some of the most famous tourist resorts. These are typical early twentieth century “postcard” views that the artist wishes to re-edit despite the snapshot quality of these images, these views, which cannot be recorded any more. (Alberto Zanchetta, Souvenir del silenzio, 2004)