The Christmas holidays overlap in time with the original celebration of Dies Natalis solis invicti (The Birthday of the Unconquered Sun), when the ancient Romans celebrated the winter solstice. This feast was a week full of various social and religious rituals. During one of these, the Saturnalia, children were given dolls, families presented each other with decorative candles, and people played a role-switching game in which slaves could act like free citizens while their masters served them. All we have to do is add Baby Jesus to the Saturnalia, and voilà: we have today’s Christmas.
And what about me? What do I think of Christmas? I can’t stand it. And I know that many of you don’t much care for it, either. But nobody can escape Christmas; it must be endured. It all starts with people’s gazes, which are increasingly more veiled and make me shiver more than the cold. Christmas demands that things be decorated with the ugliest decorations that exist. I own such decorations, too, of course, and so I pull myself together and climb up to the attic, where I have no trouble finding a dust-covered box overflowing with crumpled decorations, Christmas baubles missing hooks, and (naturally) Christmas lights – a frightening tangle of wires in need of untangling. But all of this is nothing compared to the anxiety that grows within me when I think of the presents, which I put off choosing until the last moment. I find it an impossible task. I cannot gather the requisite strength, and so my anxiety increases, for I know that my choice of presents is always a poor one. I have never enjoyed shopping, but Christmas forces me into it. And so here I am, on the last day, in a shopping center among sweaters, perfumes, and books. I give up and pick the one thing that can save Baby Jesus: a gift card. Christmas is a mere illusion of happiness. Happiness is felt only by children until they learn that Santa Claus is just their dad. I adapt to the exaggerated smiles and hugs while waiting for the alarm that, after the New Year celebrations, will wake me and return me to my normal life with deep, dark rings beneath my eyes as I bemoan all the extra kilos. But I can finally toss Christmas back into the box from which it crawled and shut it up where it belongs.
Music Box (Carillon, 2007) is the title of a video that plays with irony as it presents a short story about Christmas – one of many that add to its magic charm. A stationary camera records one single, uninterrupted scene. Standing out against a red blanket and yellow sweater is a music box in the shape of a fir tree, about fifteen centimeters high, surrounded by smiling snowmen. The two bright colors accentuate the entire object, which comes to life like in a fairy tale. And the melody, which we naturally are all familiar with, gives the scene an even greater yuletide flavor. I should nevertheless warn you that there is a twist at the end. But that is all I can say. I don’t want to ruin the performance for you.
Text: Eugenio Percossi
EUGENIO PERCOSSI (*1974) is an Italian multimedia artist who primarily lives and works in the Czech Republic. He graduated from Prague’s Academy of Fine Arts in 2015, where he studied under Markus Huemer in the Studio of New Media I. He has exhibited solo since 1988 and has participated in group exhibitions in the Czech Republic and abroad (Italy, USA, Russia, Hungary, Slovakia). Percossi’s art is characterized by an existential mood, and he often explores themes such as the futility and ephemerality of life, the commercialization of symbols, or anxiety and depression. He works with a wide range of media, including painting, sculpture, photography, installation art, and conceptual art.
The exhibition was supported by the Ministry of Culture of the Czech Republic and the Statutory City of Hradec Králové.
