Enduro is a work that, while maintaining the dimensions of an enduro motorbike, breaks away from the traditional elements of the vehicle. The form, evocative of motorbike stylistic features, lacks the functional accessories of a real motorbike, creating an interpretation that suggests movement without concretising it.

Constructed of galvanised sheet metal on a stainless steel frame, the work is characterised by a balance between lightness and solidity. The proportions recall the essence of the motorbike, but the choice of materials gives it a distinctive character, bringing out a tension between the idea of dynamism and the immobility of the object.

Leaning against a wall, the positioning of Enduro becomes an integral part of the work itself, challenging the traditional conception of static. This positioning invites the viewer to reflect on the concept of support and the relationship between the work and the surrounding space. The immobility of the motorbike suggests a connection with motorbike culture and the idea of adventure, transforming it into a symbol of freedom awaiting movement.

Cavenago, through Enduro, invites us to reconsider the boundary between art and functionality. The work is not just an object, but a reminder of the potential of movement and exploration, suggesting that art can capture and reflect dreams and aspirations even in the absence of an engine to run it. In this way, Enduro establishes itself as a work that stimulates reflection on the relationship between form, space and perception.

In the late 1980s and early 1990s, I started building motorcycle-looking artefacts. Not objects to admire, but forms to question. Apparently vehicles, but devoid of function. Just a starting idea, a compressed energy, like a tension not yet expressed. Suspended entities, waiting for a revelation that will never come. The proportions were those of real motorbikes, but without motor or movement. Some leaned against the wall, others on stands, like technical models or relics. All with the same design hypothesis: to evoke a vehicle ready to go, but stationary. In suspension. A motion that is never accomplished, a journey that has never begun. I made them with sheet metal, cut, folded and assembled in an essential way. A direct gesture, without technicalities, like a return to the essence. As if my work wanted to say: don't look for easy answers, there are no definitive solutions. Sculpture is not an answer, but a question. Those works, equipped with wheels and defunctionalised, alluded to a missed movement. Means without purpose. And in that gap, between the appearance of the vehicle and the impossibility of the journey, a space opened up: a space for sculpture, for thought, a place to stop and reflect on the immobility of existence. I never considered them finished. Each exhibition was a temporary stop, never an arrival. Changing place, changing light, changing reading. They are not motionless, but neither are they mobile. They are waiting full of possibilities, without definitive answers. And that is where I want to be. I do not project objects to look at, but questions that transform immobility into waiting. In that suspension lies their being without being, becoming without ever coming to full completion, where there is never a definitive 'end', but a process in constant waiting, a journey that never really begins. A tension that resides in their immobility, which is never static, but always waiting for a movement that is never fully accomplished.

U.C.