The Radiant Van — CANEMORTO

The Radiant Van
Special project, 2026
Luci d’Artista
Torino (Italy)

Curated by Antonio Grulli

Three guys in homemade balaclavas roll down the street raising hell. The blare of a megaphone in a post-industrial periphery. Spray cans in their hands. Grotesque outfits. A restless feeling in the air, as if the end of the world could arrive at any moment. “What are you watching?”, I ask P. “CANEMORTO.” “A dead dog? Never heard of it.” “Some artists. Italians. Wait ‘till you see their paintings.” “They’re pretty wild,” P. smiles. “Total unpredictability. Pure mischief. Bringing playfulness back, breaking routine and hierarchy—that’s what it’s all about,” she murmurs, reeling off without taking her eyes off the screen. “All right then,” I say, opening a can of tuna. Maybe the world has already ended, only no one has noticed yet. “Creating freedom. Like Situationism and those scenes. Provocation. Life as performance, literally…” says P. When thinking about the future becomes difficult and painful, people often turn their gaze to the past. Perhaps we find a certain comfort in believing that at the beginning of time humans knew the world better than we do today, here at its far end. One cannot help but think that, long ago, human beings and their spirit were harmoniously attuned to the cosmic order of the world, shielded from the ruthless logic of capital—or perhaps of the algorithm. That long-lost past, in which the human, nature, and the sacred merge into an indivisible unity, is also a time when the image—and with-it art itself—was not merely a mimetic aesthetic codification, but nothing less than the very essence of reality. “The image is that magical agent,” P. suddenly says, “which, through ritual, can influence reality and even transform it.”

The images adorning the modified body of The Radiant Van appear as if they have arrived from another time. This mobile light installation on four wheels presents a compendium of stylized animals and plants, strange creatures, and cosmographic elements—a kind of visual amulet. At first glance, the images evoke creations that could have emerged in the late Neolithic, or perhaps in Indigenous Americas cultures, or within the cities of ancient Mesopotamia. Perhaps they belong to any archaic society steeped in animism, where images both embody the world and exert influence upon it. “Social technology, knowledge of how societies are managed, is a fundamental human trait,” says P., without looking at me. “It always has been. And at its origin stands the cult. The cult is marked by the image, which personifies power over the world. The Radiant Van emerges from this very logic; it revives sacred images, banishers of malevolent forces that alienate us from ourselves and from the world. Here, an intriguing contrast arises between the rationality of a highly developed industrial society—embodied by the van itself—and the irrational realm of the magical and the esoteric, embodied by these images.” The iconography of The Radiant Van strikes with archaic directness. Its motifs speak of the genesis of ancient cults and the power of the image as their very manifestation. This is a contemporary interpretation of images that can be understood as ways of remembering, managing, and comprehending the world and its natural cycles. Yet these images testify to something more: to an all-encompassing longing for a different world—a better, more just one.

“And CANEMORTO are acutely aware of the power of these primordial visual inscriptions and their aura,” P. continues. “White magic and all that. Their repertoire of images forms a syncretic sequence of symbolic motifs. The artists believe they can use them to influence and reshape our reality—and to lift it from the materialist, hierarchical constraints to a new ontological level.” “Exactly what we need in this neurotic, confused moment.” “Of course—alongside continuing the class struggle and carrying out new revolutions.” “Are you writing a text for them?”, I ask. She nods almost imperceptibly. “For the catalogue. I have to submit it in the morning, feeling bit on edge.” “Don’t worry,” I try to reassure her. “Just don’t mention revolutions. You can show me their images now.” My eyes watch as my fingers absentmindedly poke through the can of tuna. The oil is greasy and cold, almost slimy. I’d like to have a dog, I think—but not a dead one. Before the world comes to an end. And a converted van like that. We could drive around all day, illuminating the world… “I’m going to bed,” I finally say to P. “That’ll do.” “Good night,” she says. “I love you.”

Matjaž Brulc

THE RADIANT VAN - SHORT MOVIE
Filmed and edited by Marco Proserpio
Written and performed by CANEMORTO
Audio recording, audio mixing and original music by Matteo Pansana

THE RADIANT VAN - CATALOGUE
Edited by Antonio Grulli
Published by bruno editions

First photo by Alessandro Trapezio; subsequent photos by Carola Cappellari