"When Art Meets the Courtroom: Giovanni Gasparro and the cages of creative freedom" by Carlo Coppola
The Bari prosecutor's request for a one-year-and-four-month sentence against painter Giovanni Gasparro reignites a fundamental question: where does artistic freedom end and incitement to hatred begin?
The charges specifically concern a painting depicting Saint Simon of Trent (Simone Unverdorben), whose cult was suppressed by the Catholic Church in 1965 due to its antisemitic implications—the saint's martyrdom was traditionally attributed to a "ritual murder." According to the prosecution, the representation of this iconographic theme, accompanied by the artist's social media commentary, conveyed content offensive to the Jewish faith, constituting incitement to religious hatred. The subject remains so inflammatory that public opinion, including the judiciary, cannot address it without complications.
A "manner painter" in the noblest sense, Gasparro revives Caravaggesque chiaroscuro and Baroque pathos, composing choral scenes in raking light and rendering bodies with vigorous realism. His brushstrokes are layered, his reds intense, and his contrasts evoke seventeenth-century masters, including Apulian painters from Carlo Rosa to the Fracanzano brothers and Paolo Finoglio. Each canvas tells a story: martyrdoms, saints, ecstasies, and torments become disturbing subjects for those who prefer fashionably pleasant art—including certain segments of the Church that avoid controversy by sidestepping the blood of martyrs and anything that provokes inner upheaval.
At the heart of his poetic vision lies the body in agony, martyrdom, and glory—themes that run through Christian tradition. As in the Roman Martyrology, pain is rendered tangibly: lacerated skin, tensed muscles, flowing blood, and severed limbs reminiscent of carcasses in Palermo's markets. Yet Gasparro transcends even the Vucciria: horror finds its salvific epiphany through Baroque lighting techniques, as light becomes a restorative principle that transforms the drama of flesh into epos. This is not gratuitous morbidity, but a challenge to the passivity of contemporary visual art, restoring to Faith its heroic dimension.
However, condemning Gasparro for depicting historical or religious themes risks setting a dangerous precedent. Art has always portrayed violence and martyrdom: from Triumphs of Death to Renaissance crucifixions, from seventeenth-century dramas to the carnezzerie of sacred and profane bodies. The Apulian artist positions himself within this iconographic continuity, reaffirming art's duty to shake consciences. Censorship—especially ideological censorship—reduces art to mere decoration. But why? What are its characteristics and ideological motivations? Would condemning Gasparro be equivalent to posthumously prosecuting Michelangelo or Bernini?
The judicial authority claims not to contest the right to paint violent scenes or to violate artistic freedom, but rather the context of dissemination. Certain images, accompanied by commentary, allegedly transcend the artistic realm and assume propagandistic tones detrimental to specific religions and sensibilities. For the prosecution, this isn't censorship but protection against religious hatred. The problem, however, is that some religions have hated and continue to hate, have massacred and continue to massacre in the most shameless and imaginative ways—and others wish to deny these realities to avoid embarrassment, hoping that by refusing to call things by their name, the horror might be deferred or cease to exist.
The Gasparro case forces us to examine the relationship between art, boundaries, and social criticism. Must a free society tolerate every artistic expression, even disturbing ones, or do limits exist when art conveys provocative messages? The answer is far from simple: the line between art and propaganda, provocation and incitement, remains one of our era's most complex questions. Yet whoever plays Cavaradossi must remember: Scarpia always lurks nearby.
Whatever the trial's outcome, one thing is certain: Giovanni Gasparro's work, with its figurative power and evocation of human suffering, exposes uncomfortable truths and cuts to the heart of contemporary debates on expressive freedom, the intellectual's social responsibility, and the power of images.
Carlo Coppola
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