Jacopo Benassi Heralds a Punk Revolution

It felt especially poignant to see Jacopo Benassi’s solo exhibition, ‘Sàlvati Salvàti’ (Save yourself, saved), on the day that hundreds of synchronised explosions in Lebanon and Syria killed at least 12 people and injured thousands more. Near the gallery entrance is a makeshift barricade of metal scaffolding pipes filled with dozens of overlapping framed photographs from Benassi’s archive (Barricata, Barricade, 2018–24). Some feature images of gutted construction sites or wrecked nature; in others, partially concealed faces, animals and legs peer out. Sandbags line the foot of the barricade; at the top, plaster-cast hands are ready to hurl absurd objects – a slipper or a foot – at the audience. Two silk banners suspended from thorny acacia branches flank this construction: each features a lone chela of a crab and a lobster respectively (Senza Titolo, Untitled, 2024). The old army helmet that tops one of the pipes suggests this could be a barricade from trench warfare, whilst also alluding to Italy’s 1968 student protests, which continue to have an enduring legacy on the country’s national psyche. Where do we retreat to in this polarized time of conflict and mutual fear?

Within Francesca Minini’s gallery walls, Benassi has created a safe space populated by his sculptural assemblages of photographs and acrylic paintings. Occasionally, we hear bursts from ‘Sàlvati Salvàti’ – a captivating, protest-like song by musician Lamante, with lyrics by Benassi – playing from a vinyl record. Splashes of pink, green and blue paint look like they might be covering graffiti on the walls. The vibe is punk: rebellious, energetic, raw and nostalgic. Benassi has been closely associated with the underground music scene: he co-ran the iconic Btomic club, which doubled as his first work space, in his native La Spezia. As a gay man in a reflexively patriarchal, Catholic country – which, to this day, continues targeting the LGBTQ+ community – the artist draws on his personal history to highlight the defiance of the unconforming. 

Here, Benassi’s compositions depict unlikely subjects – brambles, a hairy chest, slippers – while his more personal works use animals as stand-ins for self-portraits. In Autoritratto in Pantofole (Self-Portrait in Slippers, 2024), a large black and white photograph of a delicate butterfly is overlaid with a smaller canvas placed in the right-hand corner. The latter has been reversed so we can only see its back, which is covered in messy strokes of blue, tan and white, and the title of the work scribbled in cursive. The artist is there, but not quite. Benassi draws us time and again to the layered complexity and frailty of things. Similarly, the paintings and photographs are covered with sheets of glass that don’t quite fit across the whole work. Framed in simple but beautiful salvaged plywood, they are bound together by ratchet straps. Often, these are aided by small wooden blocks that help secure the works. By their very nature, the straps are incredibly strong, but the moment the tension is lost – a block is moved, for example – the whole thing could fall apart, like the implosion of a forced repression.

The opening night featured the first of a series of live performances that will take place during the exhibition. A small stage has been set up in the gallery, just behind the barricade, replete with drums, microphones and guitars, as well as trumpets hanging from the ceiling. Benassi and musician Khan of Finland performed the completely wild yet riveting Yes no war (2024). For a fleeting moment, the gallery was transformed into an all-encompassing, punk celebration channelling our rage whilst giving space to hope. Music, art, performance: this, Benassi seems to suggest, is what sustains us.

Jacopo Benassi's ‘Sàlvati Salvàti’ is on view at Francesca Minini, Milan, until 9 November

_{Main image: Jacopo Benassi, Panorama della spiaggia di Pachino (Sicilia), 2024, acrylic on canvas, fine art photoprints, artist frames, wooden clips, straps, 156 × 207 × 21 cm. Courtesy: the artist and Francesca Minini, Milan}