This exhibition is a meeting of two worlds: that of the mystical Brocéliande forest with its magnificent horses, and the burlesque Italy of Federico Fellini’s films. Two universes that, at first, seem poles apart, but which, through a photographer’s lens, blend and merge together almost naturally amid the landscapes of the Morbihan region. This unexpected marriage is celebrated by the subtle talent and artistic fibre of Emanuele Scorcelletti.
This year, La Gacilly has expanded its boundaries to include Glénac and La Chapelle-Gaceline. For this commission on the theme of horses – the symbol of La Chapelle-Gaceline, where Patrick Massé’s equestrian theatre is located – it was important to find an artist who, in turn, could challenge his own creative boundaries. A challenge that was met with panache by this Franco-Italian photographer, who shot to fame when he won a World Press Photo Award for a photograph of Sharon Stone on the red carpet at Cannes.
His photographs have a dreamlike quality – a gentle, elegant and poetic dream that carries us off to a world brimming with symbols that regale our subconscious with ancient myths. And, as so often in dreams, chimera emerge, blending the strange and bizarre with the most realistic scenes. As a result, subtly refined photos of a slender galloping horse or a cart carrying pupils from La Chapelle-Gaceline school are adorned with these dreamlike frescoes where a delirious spectacle unfolds orchestrated by the masterly hand of Emanuele Scorcelletti. Like a circus ringmaster – megaphone in hand, broadcasting the music of Renato Carosone or Nino Rota through loudspeakers – the photographer transformed the residents of the new commune into improvised actors and models. Progressing from a simple onlooker to a director, Scorcelletti has instilled these images with his sense of artistic direction and composition, which he has honed working alongside some of the biggest names in cinema.
All ye who enter here, open your eyes and ears. Strolling through this unique exhibition, you cannot help but hear the murmur of the mysterious Morbihan winds. An air that, in places, brings the heady sound of the trumpets, violins, drums and percussion in Fellini’s La Dolce Vita, La Strada or Amarcord all the way from Italy.