According to psychoanalysis, dream censorship is a function of the psyche that prevents unconscious desires from accessing conscience directly. It is a control mechanism – exerted by the ego and the superego over memories, ideas, and impulses of the unconscious sphere – that forces dreams to conceal themselves through disguise strategies and symbolic representation.
In the artist, we see the same basic short-circuit that takes place in the dream world, and brings about the symbolic coercion that may be recognized in the works he or she creates. Metal, a material that, in its production, is second only to glass, acts like the superego of the mind in constraining the natural expansion and expression of glass in space and behaving like a censor.
In this manner, glass, the archetype of all things pure and essential, becomes the representation of the artist’s self, a concrete expression of the desires, impulses and emotions that are exhibited, undisguised and free of indecipherable symbolism, in uncensored dreams.
This cathartic action is no different from that which, in the course of history, all movements of the soul have sought in art; here, however, it becomes highly personal, inasmuch as the artist, from the age of 10 onwards, has had no access to any memory of the dreams that animate his nights.
This is the reason why Lorenzo Passi has built a dream-machine, a mechanical canopy capable of ferrying conscience into what psychology calls the REM phase, during which our brain is in full dream-activity while our body lies paralyzed.
Thus, the exhibition I built a canopy for dreams is articulated in phases, just like the mind when it sinks into sleep. Starting from the the first room, where the entire archive of images and memories is chaotically and fragmentarily composed in space, we move on to a place of rigorous shapes, rising vertically in a manner reminiscent of the architecture of an industrial city. Here, the narration of our existence and of what we are is determined by conventions, ideals, and stereotypes