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Alternative Waters: a Personal View of Recent Macri Portraits

by Kenneth Radu

Part I

People familiar with Adamo Macris portraits may well experience an aesthetic shock to see a
picture of the artist with his eyes wide open. So many of his self-portraits depict the eyes
averted, lowered, askance, or rarely looking directly at the viewer that I was taken aback by a
recent picture, entitled Damo, 2013. There are a few other pictures in his Facebook oeuvre
wherein the artist opens his eyes and stares out of the canvas, Self-Portrait, 2013, for example,
but that is a study in shadows, and the gaze seems reluctant and melancholy. In Damo 2013
Macri confronts the viewer boldly, provocatively, no hesitation, no flinching, a full depiction of the
apparent Macri face without accoutrements, ornaments, masks or shadows, and one might

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appropriately assume, without a trace of clothing, even if the body from the neck down is out of
sight.
Given his many portrayals of various appearances (Zoophily represents what I mean), in Damo,
2013 he could be ending 2013 with a public revelation of what he looks like without artifice.
Having said that, I wish to qualify it. The careful reader will notice that I used the adjective
apparent to describe this unadorned face. Simply put, I believe it would be disingenuous to
assume that Damo, 2013 is a true picture of the man as individual, as genuine, however
superior in execution, as a simple snapshot or passport photo.

Damo, 2013 discombobulates and intrigues me as a viewer: unease mingled with admiration.
After studying this self-portrait, I have torn myself away in order to make sense of what both
attracts and disturbs, only to return to explain my feelings. True, Louise Bourgeois has stated

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that art needs no explanation: "A work of art doesn't have to be explained. If you do not have
any feeling about this, I cannot explain it to you. If this doesn't touch you, I have failed."
I agree to a degree. Many responses consist of more than feeling, unless Bourgeois
incorporates a great deal of meaning in her use of the word. My own response to art, not
unique, combines intellect and emotion like a metaphysical poem by John Donne: reason and
feeling, knowledge and memory, perception and instinct, facts and fantasy, desire and dreams
the dichotomies multiply and tumble over themselves. I cant be alone in this. My reaction has to
be explained, for such is my nature as a writer who sees through words as much as through
sight. What a face, indeed! Its no secret that I admire the mans artistry because he always
takes others and me by surprise, and allows our imagination to do its work, which is to immerse
us in a pool of possibilities. I think the bewitching gaze of the artist reflects his imaginative
awareness of the viewers inner life, desires, and cultural connections.
This picture is not merely a photo of the artist. Yes, it looks like him, but realistic representation
is not its primary purpose. Macri is nothing if he is not multi-faceted, for he plays with identities
as much as he plays with our understanding and fantasies. Damo, 2013 led me to peruse

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another remarkable self-portrait of the artist wherein the emphasis on costume and
appurtenances is supreme. I then compared these two pictures with a third, also recent,
example of his many disguises, arranging them in such a way that all three portraits form a
triangle of related points and fantasies. Besides Damo, 2013, the other two are Zoophily, and
The Bat, the Birds, and the Beasts. Although the latter is part of a video production, it can stand
on its own as a singular portrait. Rather than what does the artist mean, a more appropriate
question would be how does he mean? In that question are included queries about devices
and techniques, and the various methods at his disposal to produce a given image. I meander,
but bear with me, if you will, because feeling the art in my case cannot be separated from
thinking about it in words.
I am fascinated by the fact that in Damo, 2013 the artist does not resort to costume in any form.
As I have said, assuming that Macri has taken a picture of himself to show the authentic man as
an individual would be somewhat mistaken. I cannot resist feeling and thinking that in the naked
truth of the picture reside many layers of meaning, paradoxically emphasized by the fact that
there is no attempt to dress the face. Despite its lack of props or theatrical poses so evident in
Macris portfolio, Damo, 2013 remains a stunning and complex image of symbolic allusions, into
which viewers may project their desires and memories, notwithstanding the intentions of the
artist.
Unless he sits down by my side and instructs me, however, I cannot know the deliberate
intentions of the artist. True, he has discussed the underlying principles and technicalities of his
art in various interviews and comments, but he doesnt insist that our view be exclusively guided
by his vision, or that his interpretation of what he does is the only plausible one. He is not about
to tell us what to feel or think, nor is that even desirable. Admirers of Macris art can only know
what they feel and see, perhaps understanding the unexplained intentions of the artist, but their
feelings are indisputably valid, quite apart from his artistic intent. I therefore have the freedom
to place one image next to another, and open up my modest treasure chests and cabinets
stuffed with curiosities. Turning things over to discover startling patterns and similarities, in
Damo, 2013 I recognize a multiplicity of identities beneath the surface values of the portrait.
A sophisticated and culturally attuned artist, Macris cornucopia of knowledge of and expertise in
the multi-dimensionality of contemporary art in the digital age is evident in his collective
portraits. Taking off the hat or removing the mask, or opening his eyes to look directly at us, as if
to say this is who I am without pretense, does not mean that Self-portrait, 2013 is lacking subtle
allusions, intimations, and disguise. That is the essential brilliance of Macris self-portraits: they
portray the many facets of identity and are equally suggestive pictures of subterranean
emotions, fantasies, and ideas. Yes, of course, Macri the man is handsome and has sex appeal,
that is no more than saying the obvious. He has turned his good looks to great artistic and erotic
advantage, an essential point, but not the only one.
However difficult to evade the intensity of the eyes in Damo, 2013, I am able to do so for the
moment, and concentrate on the facial structure. Id like first to focus on the interconnecting
triangles, and then move into the compelling eyes. The triangularity is as strong as the
penetrating gaze. There is nothing new about the geometric shape of faces; but Adamo Macri
uses what is banal or common, and transposes it into another dimension to offer possibilities
derived from the very structure of his face and from our imaginative responses to it. His layered
images welcome the creation of meaning. I am encouraged to go beyond appearance into other
areas of interpretation without violating the integrity of the work. I feel what I see and

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simultaneously think about what I feel. The emotions enlighten the mind. Delving further, I am
rewarded. The artistry involved in the creation of this image pose, colouring, lighting, eyes,
hair all contribute to the power of the triangle and the inescapable gaze.

The chin is the apex of the triangle pointed downwards, and the base line stretches horizontally
under the eyes and over the bridge of the nose. The tip of the nose forms the apex of second
triangle whose base is the frame across the head. Two distinct and strong triangles form the
entirety of the face. Within them are several similar triangular shapes: the arching eyebrows, the
center of the upper lip, the beard, and the chest hair barely perceptible under the chin. Even the
skin tones of the cheeks assume this geometric pattern. As in many of Macris portraits, the man
does not smile. A smile is in fact a definition of a mood, a predisposition, and it alters the face,

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even distorts it in ways contrary to the purpose of the portraits. The severity in the pictures is not
grim, but emotionally neutral, thereby inviting viewers to project whatever emotion they choose,
to imagine what the artist may be thinking, and not to be taken by a smile on the surface of
things. I wish the artist health and happiness, but I am glad he does not smile.
I am taken by triangles here. Analyzing the portrait in these terms, which admittedly may not be
to everyones taste, intensifies my feelings about it. The physical response holds hands with the
intellectual. The triangles interlock with my sensations and understanding. Smitten by isosceles
and equilaterals, I have fallen in lust with geometry.
Triangles have a long history of significance. Spirituality, Christianity, Masonry, occultism,
pentagrams, pentacles, and satanic forces at work, you find what you search for, or what the
portrait leads you to explore. At one extreme end, the triangle is a feature of the goat figure

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Baphomet; at the opposite end, the Christian importance of triangles is announced in the
concept of the Trinity, and represented in Giottos great work, God the Father with Angels. This
is not to argue that Macris Damo, 2013 portrait necessarily embodies either Lucifer or Gabriel,
although it smoulders with the fires of the former and shimmers with the light of the latter. It
emphasizes the emotive power of the triangle as a structuring element in portraiture and as a
symbolic device. Like most viewers, I am attracted to one extreme or another, the angelic and
the demonic, and possess a range of attitudes and feelings between the two.

Despite the force of triangles, no one looking at Damo, 2013 can avoid the magnetism of the
eyes, which is a testament as much to the technical excellence of the art as it is to the beauty of
the man. His eyes dare us to come closer and lose ourselves in the power of his perception,

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and fancifully wander in the realm of his desires. Behind the eyes exist a remarkable mind and
human appetite, and I have always considered that a thrilling aspect of his art. If Macris dark
eyes are the doorways to his mind or soul, according to common poetic tropes, then viewer
beware. For the appetite, lets call it passion, may be more what we project in the portrait than
what the artist reveals. We see our own inchoate longing reflected in that beguiling look.
If viewers like me are either intrigued or uneasy (or both) or amused (theres a hint of irony,
even satire, of deliberate self-mockery in some of Macris portraits) by what they perceive as a
dark side, is that the result of his deliberate intention, or their own feelings and wishes? From
the outside, objectively speaking, we all agree that the eyes are steady and unflinching, magical
and mesmerizing, as if they are denuding our secret selves, just as we try to look behind his
eyes hoping to uncover various shades of his purpose or fantasies.
I am reminded of one of my favourite classical myths, the richly symbolic story of Narcissus.
This may not be surprising because Macri himself has created an image entitled Narcissus, part
of the artists botanical interests. To clear away any automatic response, I am not thinking of
psychological narcissism, that common pathology of personality. In Macris conception, the story
goes beyond mere neurosis. It illustrates his fascination with the cellular structure of natural
phenomenon, the principles of growth in animal and plant life, and their connection with human
life (e.g. Epizoochory among others). As he has mentioned in one of his Facebook comments:
flowers spring up everywhere, sometimes as a main feature of a myth, at times blurring the line
between plant and person.

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Having rejected the love of the clinging nymph Echo, Narcissus becomes hypnotized by his
reflection in a glassy pool, remains fixated, and wastes away from unrequited passion. To
reward him for his steadfastness or to punish him for self-involvement, the gods turn him into a
flower (daffodil or narcissus), as metamorphosis is inextricable from classical lore as much as it
is intrinsic to Macris art. There is another version of the story I also enjoy. Seeking to embrace
the illusion, Narcissus reaches for the unattainable, and drowns. True, the myth is often
construed to mean the dangers and limitations of self-love, the inability to love anyone other
than the self, a moral and psychological lesson. I dont dispute that, but its irrelevant to Macris
work. I see the myth as a portrayal of a nebulous longing to live more than one life, to reach out
to buried or suppressed selves, or various aspects thereof, recognizing that we may well have
been confined by our gender and the social roles we play and by the partners we are expected
to love throughout our history, and thereby imprison our imagination and desires.
It is conceivable that in desiring union with his image in the water, Narcissus is reaching out to
another version of himself, unattainable in the confines of the quotidian where he is trapped by
his own limitations on the ground. The passion unrequited, something Echo experienced, is not
so much for the physical self transfixed by the pond as it is for an extension of varieties of life in
an alternate world. I beg the readers forbearance here: the notion may be eccentric or fanciful
or wrongheaded, but when I look upon his face in any one of its guises, I see aspects of what I
am not, but may unconsciously wish to be, or a visualization of rebellious impulses yet to be
given free rein, or, more broadly speaking, a celebration of life and multiplicity, and the
understanding that darkness is not merely an antithesis, but a volatile and rich companion of
light.

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Part II

The erotic underpinnings of Damo, 2013 should not blind us to its intellectual or cultural
content. The look also reveals piercing intelligence, acute insight into the nature of reality, often
probing to the fundamental molecular level of existence, which in fact Macri explores in other
dimensions of his art, a fullness of light and vision that comes from seeing in the way only an
artist sees. I cannot truly know what another person thinks or feels. I can only know what I
sense, project, desire, or come close to, because I try in my own way to understand what I am
feeling and seeing in front of a work of art. Through his vision and knowledge we acquire insight
into and recognition of the contradictory dimensions of life. Such has always been true of
Macris art, and not only in his self-portraits.
The admonition to beware indicates the basis of my paradoxical responses to this particular
portrait. I stand back to appreciate objectively, and I am also sucked into the dark to lose all
objectivity. A part of me, a residual cultural lore of my Romanian Manichean ancestry, thinks of
some vampiric purpose in those eyes, ulterior motives in that serene, severe, yet tender and
blood-tinged face, without any overt identifying signs, but ready for the bite on the neck. It may
not surprise viewers to learn that the artist is engaged in a vampire project, something that fills
me with great anticipation. While perusing this picture, I cannot help but think of the many
stories of the demon lover seducing a sometimes-willing mortal. And its not always a bad thing.
The Romanian poet Mihai Eminescu, for example, constructs one of his major poetic narratives
on the idea of a supernatural lover, angelic or demonic, depending upon ones inclinations and
reading. In Luceafrul (The Evening Star), a divine being descends to a princess in a chamber,
a being remarkable for the brilliance his eyes:
Bright eyes he had that seemed to tell
Of strange chimerical bonds;
And deep they were as passion's spell,
And dark as moonlit ponds.
We remember that Lucifer, related to Lucea, was originally an angel of light. One can carry
interpretation too far, but that has never stopped me. The further I go, the closer I come to what
Im seeking. Now I see a pun, deliberate or otherwise, in the last name, Damo-damned, and
significance in the number 13, traditionally associated with ill fate, although its use in the title
may well be no more than a statement of chronological fact.
The Bat, the Bird and the Beast is a portrait that perhaps should not be considered apart from
other animal or zoological images that Macri has created. I hear the soft pad of a mythological
beast prowling for playmates or prey, the distinction may not be as real as we might assume, as
he frolics with angels and mortals. For my purposes at the moment, I focus on the powerful
triangles in this picture present in the black oversized glasses framing the eyes like wings, and
the dynamic fringe of black strips dropping from the shoulders like fur or feathers or the leathery
skin of certain mammals. The creatures and their symbolic significance are all evident in this
highly staged image. Is the artist a bird, a bat, a beast? Why does he name all three? More
importantly, what do we see? The structural angularity, however, is almost forbidding, warning
us not to touch, even if viewers may desire to do so like thirsty Tantalus yearning after the
forever elusive stream of water.

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A portrait reminiscent of a satyr or bird, or, as some have noted, of either Nijinsky or Nureyev
suitably costumed to dance in LAprs-midi dun Faune, Zoophily also evinces a triangular
structure. The stylized horn on the head and other natural elements in the portrait remind me
of Two Satyrs, a painting by Peter Paul Rubens; but Macri boldly crosses the boundaries of
gender and species in this and other portraits. The longer I look, the more enraptured I become,
a word I use advisedly. I am seized and carried aloft by a mythical bird, or elevated to a strange
kind of heaven by the feathered Aztec god, Quetzalcoatl. On the other hand, I may well have
submerged myself in a pool of fantasies, caught in a whirl of contradictions. Like Lucifer, the
rebel angel of light, Quetzalcoatl is also associated with that universally symbolic snake. The
props in Zoophily, however, remind me of nature and organic life, of the proximity of human to
vegetable, a relationship the artist explores in various aspects of his work, including the
portraits. Of course, serpents may well slither among the grasses and reeds, or swim in that

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alluring pond. And, yes, there is always the serpent as phallic symbol. Archetypally I hear
echoes of Adam in the garden, calling for Eve, unaware that she has been conversing with a
snake.
Behind much of Macris facial costumes, all designed to illustrate multiple identities, there is a
mythological impulse, almost Grecian, an erotic connection with fabulous and fabulist stories of
glades, valleys, pools, streams, trees an entire otherworldly landscape wherein satyrs and
nymphs abound. In Zoophily with its classic resonances, and in other portraits like Bustard
Panache with the triangular structure of the face as prominent as the black boa circling the
neck, I see the beast roaming through the consciousness of the consummate artist and prowling
in my own imagination.

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Including a discussion of Bustard Panache creates a foursome of pictures, a square. By drawing

a diagonal line through a square, we have two adjoining triangles, so I am still on an apex of
desire. The Bustard portrait is a technical study in black and gold, a dramatic handling of the
eroticism of human hair, a theme evident in an earlier picture, the sensual and masculine SelfPortrait, 2012, all brilliantly achieved. A sexually dimorphic bird, the bustard displays noticeable
differences between male and female; but the portrait unites opposites, seeks similarities,
incorporates and does not separate, and thereby highlights sexual ambiguity or gender
liberation from its socially codified definitions and expectations.
The background in the Bustard portrait is nebulous and steel grey like an overcast sky. Given
the perspective of the camera, its easy enough to feel that I am looking up to a deity of sorts

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who is not quite standing on common ground: a creature of the earth who is able to transcend
its limitations. The artist transfigures his face into that of a quasi-divine man luring the viewer
who in turn enlarges the implications, a man met in dreams about enchanted locales. One may
dive into the deepest pool, or to change metaphors, enter the darkest den out of which these
magnetic eyes of Damo, 2013 stare, and be consumed by alternative passions. Moreover, the
manipulation of sexual identity deliberately infuses the pictures with an electrically charged
dynamic created by male and female attributes of feathers and furs. The images celebrate the
androgynous and the polymorphous in the human psyche by presenting Macris face as a blend
of multiple sexual inclinations. He becomes the gender the viewer desires; he participates in the
viewers fantasies, so to speak, and includes them all.
The word panache, therefore, refers to the flair and bravado of the piece itself, as much as it
does to a feeling of sweet recklessness, and to the seeming plumes in the hairstyle like a
feathery headpiece. Satyrs romp about in many a painting, although Macri himself remains still.
The sexual energy in his portrait is restrained, the face passive but fraught with tensions. In
paintings by Caravaggio (Satyr with Grapes), Zabaleta (The Satyr), Bouguereau (Nymphs and
Satyr), and any number of others in various genres from different periods of time, the saucy

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creature with the hooves of a goat and horns on its head romps about the field: innocent and
impish, or randy and hedonistic, usually playful and mostly erotic.
By its very nature the satyr is pre-eminently concupiscent, anthropomorphized lust. Does
satyriasis harden sympathies? It is also comic and mischievous, capable of mocking our moral
reservations and self-importance. Satire, anyone? Although I havent researched the topic, there
must surely be any number of disquisitions about the satyr in Western art. Among my favourite
satyr works is Clodions intimate and lovely 1775 sculpture, Satyr and Bacchante, a delicious
interplay of the beast and the human, the entwining off male and female, the sweet delirium of
the bacchanal, an unfettered sexuality, and unalloyed ecstasy that can be spiritual as much as
physical.

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The triangular elements of these portraits lock in powerful ideas and emotions, even as they
invite entry into the imagination of the artist. The sharpness of the structure in Bustard Panache,
striking in its angularity, is offset by the sinuosity of the boa around the neck, a curving river of
sensual intimations. Oh, and how we love curves in art. The eyes of Damo, 2013 lead us further
into his mind and desire, or they cut through the barriers behind which we hide, and we are
perforce made to look away lest we see more than we care to admit. If a pentacle is composed
of triangles, and if, according to common lore, it is associated with supernatural, and not
necessarily angelic forces, then Damo, 2013 arguably recognizes darker elements in the human
psyche which always engage interest.
The temptation to dive in the pool, or seek the lair of the beast, is as compelling as the desire to
dance with the angels. The devilish fires may well reside in the triangles, or if one is so inclined
to see spiritual connotations, angelic illumination may shine out from the face in equal measure.
Flesh and spirit, ascetic and rou, angel and devil, vampire and victim, demon and lover, clown
and gaucho, animal and human, bird and beast, wide-eyed with wonder or alert to the darkness
within: I welcome the fantasy and reality of Damos transformative world.
Why confine ourselves with dichotomies? Most of us are neither exclusively one nor the other.
We possess multiple identities like the artist who dares to expose, play with, and present all the
gradations and modulations between polar opposites for our delight and revelation. If I have
learned or seen anything by studying Macris wonderful self-portraits, it is that his work contains
and reflects our contradictions and paradoxes, unafraid of a viewers inferences, even as the
artist loads his technically masterful images with implications and cultural allusions of his own.

Part III

Entranced by the structure and colours of Damo, 2013, the black and white dynamism of
Zoophily, the intensity and flare of The Bat, The Bird and the Beast, and the hirsute eroticism of
Bustard Panache, I plunge into the inviting pool and swim towards alternate possibilities, a
watery dreamscape containing my transfigured feelings and thoughts reflected in the art of
Adamo Macri.
I cannot leave these portraits, however, without speaking about the culminating image of
Prospero Sycorax Ariel. Placed next to Zoophily, it immediately presents structural and theatrical
parallels. I have said enough about triangles, and if anyone sees rhomboids or squares, I will
respect our geometric differences and move on. What we must all see, however, is Macris
coherent artistic vision, and the many visual and thematic links among his portraits. With a
heavy but adroit use of stage make-up, the red-tinged, demonic eyes prominently highlighted
and also looking away from the viewer, the coloration of the lips, the disheveled appearance of
the hair, the forceful allure of the facial structure, the smudges and dirt on the body, cultural and
mythological echoes resonate in the image. Prospero Sycorax Ariel is arguably a veritable
masterpiece, and I remember my visceral response and gasping out loud when I first saw it.

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Given the title, Macri is obviously drawing our attention to The Tempest, perhaps the most
symbolic and surrealistic of Shakespeares plays. The picture is named not only after Prospero,
the exiled conjuror and illusionist, but also after the witch Sycorax. At one time the ruler of the
magical island, she was the mother of Caliban whom Prospero has enslaved after displacing
her and her powers, just as the witch had once enslaved the sprite Ariel. The artist does not
mention Caliban by name, the strange part-human and part-animal creature who has lusted
after Miranda, Prosperos daughter. The daughters name is also filled with the larger
implications of the play. Quite apart from the innocence and wonder of Miranda, the sullied
visage and the sickly hues of the flesh in Macris portrait indicate a being familiar with bogs,
muddy streams, caverns and tree hollows, not an idealized and sanitized satyr or sprite. What
does Macri intend here by naming the piece after the deposed duke-magician, the witch figure
Sycorax, and the ethereal Ariel who is light and swift like a passing wind?
Let me first repeat my utter admiration for the portrait, which goes beyond its technical
excellence, although artistry and response are aligned. This particular self-portrait still makes
me shiver. When I stare at it long, I feel myself falling to pieces just as that old trite song says: I
fall to pieces/Whenever I look at you. All the kings men in their thousands cant put me back
together again, for Macris art produces multiple fractures in a viewers emotion and perception,
and even orgasms, depending upon the nature of ones visceral response and fantasies. Have I
swooned? Pardon me while I gather my wits scattered by ecstasy. I am depleted and then re-

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created. I cannot regain my original state of being: the portrait has altered me just as the artist
has altered his face. Most of us carry an image of Prospero the magician and manipulator of
various lives on the island. Here Macri draws our attention not to the old man with a wand, so to
speak, but to his associations with the laws of nature, the powers of metamorphoses, dark
yearnings, elemental connections with the muck and mire of creation, and the illusions we
mistake for reality.
Zoophily, with which this picture has much in common, brings to mind satyrs and dancers,
demonic figures, or even Ariel, as well as humanitys intertwining with the natural world.
Prospero Sycorax Ariel reminds us of the initial conflict between wizard and witch, of the
struggles, if that is an accurate term, between male and female, of the dispossession and
degradation of Caliban, a creature with ravening appetites. Its quite interesting to consider how
much Prospero and Sycorax share, what common attributes they possess. In any case, aware
of the post-colonial interpretations of The Tempest, I shall simply resort to a large generalization
that Macris picture depicts profound ambiguities and contains contradictions in stasis, a forceful
but quiet presentation of the dark side of pretty nature: lust, oppression, and the appetite of the
beast.
Although the portrait avoids naming Caliban, it very much embodies aspects of his instincts and
desires. For Calibans view of his situation, I refer the reader to Robert Brownings complex and
brilliant narrative poem, Caliban Upon Setebos. In Shakespeares play Caliban is a hybrid
creature, uncivilized and pagan although taught speech by his master, and deeply conscious of
his position, of what he has lost, and what he is not. Despite the omission of his name in the
title, the salacious Caliban flicks across the Macri face, lurks behind the reddish eyes, and
mingles with the erotic undertones of the portrait. The witch Sycroax, once a powerful female
figure, is present in the face as well, for the image does not exclude opposites but incorporates
them, and displays the energy of multiple identities and pagan affiliations with the natural world.
If Ariel is also implicit, Macris conception of him or her, for Ariel strikes me as quintessentially
gender neutral or sexually malleable, is no Tinkerbell, but very much a spirit of an alternate
world longing for freedom from human control. In the portrait human character is manifold;
genders change and coalesce; what we see may not be what we get and what we grasp may
elude us. In the vision of the artist, as in The Tempest, the world is as solid and shifting as a
dream.
I recall studying Shakespeare with the great Canadian scholar Northrop Frye. During one of his
subtle and often witty lectures, he suggested that an ideal production of The Tempest would
occur underwater. Frye was referring to nature imbued with divinity and magic, the power of
transformations and altered perspectives, Prosperos ability to create illusions, including the
tempest, and all the connotations of rejuvenation and new life symbolized by water. Going back
to the first portrait that begins my little study, the seductive, unadorned, and open-eyed visage of
Damo, 2013, I recognize the stunning contrasts and similarities between the two pictures and
feel (I use the word feel deliberately) how Damo, 2013 inevitably leads to the magnificent
portrait of Prospero Sycorax Ariel. Macri is a profound magician in his artistry. He builds a vision
out of his own predilections, and delves deeply into our fantasies. Would I invite the man in
either Damo, 2013 or Prospero Sycorax Ariel to a civilized tea? Probably not, but I could well
gambol with him on an illusory and magical island or frolic in a dark and delirious sea.

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Kenneth Radu has published books of fiction, poetry and non-fiction, including The Cost of Living,
shortlisted for the Governor General's Award. His collection of stories A Private Performance and his
novel Distant Relations both received the Quebec Writers' Federation Award for best English-language
fiction. He is also the author of the novel Flesh and Blood (HarperCollins Canada) and Sex in Russia:
New & Selected Stories (DC Books Canada). His most recent book is Butterfly in Amber, a novel set in
Montreal and Russia, published in the spring of 2014, also by DC Books.

Alternative Waters: a Personal View of Recent Macri Portraits

Essay by Kenneth Radu April 2014

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