Lower East Side, New York
Marco Scarpi
Flexible Work Ethics
AmanitaAmanita is pleased to present Flexible Work Ethics, Marco Scarpi’s solo exhibition. “Show me a word that rhymes with pavement” … Two old ladies get on the train wearing oversized neon jackets. East Broadway They are laughing trough their thick glasses — a contagious laugh — speaking in a spanish language, maybe Colombian. “And I won’t kill your parents” … York St. Next “And rost them on a spit”… The doors close. A homeless man is sleeping taking the full bench. He has a wistful smile across the face, maybe he is hearing the old ladies laughs. Nobody seems to care much. “And a— don’t ya try to each it”… A guy sitted across me keep staring. “Or permanently sketch it” … Engravement? Engravement rhymes with pavement. Idk. The guy keeps staring at me trough his sunglasses. Or so it seems. Do I know him? I stare back. He really got the face of someone who hates John Lennon. I look away and try to focus on the homeless man. He seems happy, bumping his head on the rhythm of some music playing in his head. Imagine? I still feel his penetrating gaze on me. Jay St — Metrotech Next “Or you gonna catch a bad, bad c—” No! Here we go. Lost it. I had to walk off at York st. The homeless man slowly turns on his side. I will go off the next station and take the train back. “And the frea—” Enough music. I put the messy ball of headphones back in my pocket and I walk towards the door. Still sat at his place the guy keeps staring at me. I can see it through the dirty window glass which deforms his face. The homeless man starts laughing. Jay St — Metrotech Escuse me, excuse me– I get off the busy train trying to hurt nobody. A gracile old lady supported by a walker smiles at me. I smile back at her. The city makes you kinder. I sprint to the stairs looking up for directions. I really cannot miss the next one. Uptown Brooklyn? Maybe. Google maps takes his time. Mahnattan F? Got it. What was wrong with that guy? I jump up the stairs following the F sign. I cross this woman who is sprinting down. The clattering of her boots caught my attention. She is wearing a black tailleur and holding close a bunch of papers, probably work documents. I smile at her but she does not reply. Looks like she is in a hurry. At platform F a performer is curb dancing on the jazz notes of a broken stereo. He is tip tapping on top of an old wood box. The sounds remind me the loud boots of the woman. He is good at it. Nobody seems to care much tho. Everyone is on their phones. Jamaica 179 — 7 I got to wait seven minutes. It could be worst. The performance has just finished and the dancer receives a few timid claps. He looks like he got a lot of energy. I search in my pocket but I do not have bills. The performance starts again. Just four minutes and the train arrives. A random tourist, visibly drunk, joins the curb dancing. He tries to bring on his friends which, visibly shy, beg him to stop. Jamaica 179 — 0. I see the train coming from the distance. I wait for the doors to open. I sit next to a couple. They look happy. The light on this train is too strong, my eyes are hurting. —Marco Scarpi Marco Scarpi (b. 1998) grew up in Venice. He completed a BA in illustration and Visual Media at UAL. Marco lives and works in Florence. In his paintings, he considers personal history through form and material exploration.