"Look Down" Vandalized Again, but Not Only That...

The sculpture by Jago returns to New York and encounters new acts of vandalism, but also recognition and repeated applause.

Every man is a dead boy, a reflection of lost innocence and inner conflict. In Salinger's "The Catcher in the Rye," Holden Caulfield struggles to protect the purity of childhood in a world that forces him to confront the inevitable corruption of adulthood. "Look Down" contains fragments of this reflection, capturing the vulnerability and struggle to preserve innocence in a ruthless urban context, just as Salinger tries to protect children from falling into the adult world.

"Look Down" was born from observing numerous homeless people sleeping on the streets during a visit to New York in 2018. This scene led me to reflect on how the presence of people forced to live and sleep outdoors has become so common that it generates indifference. From this realization, I was deeply struck by the thought that every homeless person was, at some point, a child with a family and hopes. This pushed me to consider more deeply the themes of poverty and discrimination, renewing my perspective on these issues.

Between 2018 and 2020, during your time in New York, you created three works all using Vermont marble: "Look Down," "The First Baby," and "Il Figlio Velato." How did the inspiration and necessity to create this trilogy come about?

The first work I began working on was "Il Figlio Velato." From a leftover piece of the marble used, I started working on "The First Baby." So, simultaneously, I created "Look Down." I came to the realization of these three works without having a structured thought as a starting point. To make a sculpture, you have to remove the superfluous. I seek my inspirations by operating on a double level of observation: you observe society, and you observe the marble.

Three works dedicated to childhood. Why did you come to focus on this period of life?

The starting point of "Look Down," to tell the truth, was the desire to draw attention to the marginalized, the homeless. Human beings who, after living in New York for a while, caught up in your daily life, you stop noticing. So I decided to sculpt the homeless person when he was a child, before becoming one, that is, a defeated person who doesn’t yet know he’s losing. I chose a child to represent the story of an adult, which I placed within the sculpture. The meaning of the work is given by the other, by those who observe and encounter your works. The continuous association of the work with childhood rather than with the original intentions is an interpretation I have learned to accept.

"Look Down" has had some unpleasant encounters during its previous exhibitions. In Naples, there was a scandal when four teenagers filmed themselves staging a beating of the sculpture. Your reaction surprised everyone: you were rather indignant at the general outrage their behavior provoked, and you felt the need to protect the attackers.

I saw the video and started laughing. A prank that caused no damage to the work, but instead triggered a media lynching of those kids. What was happening wasn’t fair to them. I, at their age, got into all sorts of trouble. The day before my communion, I set a palm tree on fire in Anagni and then shamelessly lied to everyone. The shitstorm they endured really made me uncomfortable.

Thus, the idea of inviting them to your studio and meeting with them was born.

I preferred to welcome them rather than judge them.

The poetics of vandalism has since become an integral part of the work. In the desert of the United Arab Emirates, the work was damaged in various places: an ear, the finger of a hand, a foot. The chain attached to the navel was torn off. What happened?

"Look Down" arrived in a new and distant world, like a Middle Eastern desert. An aesthetic image that was very suggestive to me, but that evidently bothered some local. I think someone tried to move it. Then, since they couldn’t, they gave up and left.

Move it?

Move it.

You have accepted vandalism as a form of involuntary participation in the work, and the sculpture that bears these visible marks has arrived in New York. And here it’s collecting new damaging gestures: a "Supreme" inscription on the forearm, a kick to the head. Even pebbles taken from the park and stuck in its nose. Is there a particular animosity against this work?

In front of my works, I’ve seen people kneel and pray, children jump on them to play, people caress them. When you place a work of art in a public space, all these things happen. It’s not about animosity, but rather, worse things have happened: in Rome, in front of Castel Sant’Angelo, the sculpture "I Am Ready for the Scourge" was completely destroyed. It was a work against racism, depicting a young refugee on the ground. Today it’s gone.

Given that "Look Down" has suffered various forms of vandalism in different cities, do you think the sculpture, with its marks and scars, has gained new meaning or added value compared to the original?

The sculpture is not just an object to observe, but a container of meanings that invites anyone who encounters it to insert their own experiences and reflections. The choice not to repair some of the damage suffered by the work, like the two holes corresponding to the entrance of a chain, is a conscious decision that amplifies the message of vulnerability and resilience.

Next stop?

Surely one day the work will stop. At least I hope so, but at the moment, I can’t predict how long its journey will be. As I have always done, I will share the location of the next stop on the day of its installation.