Capitolo Zero

On first encountering Giovanna Sandri’s Capitolo Zero, one wonders whether this is a work of visual art or a book of poems. Originally published in 1969 (in Rome), the book, newly released in a beautiful edition by DABA, eludes easy categorization. Terms often associated with Sandri’s work—like “visual poetry” and “concrete poetry”—fall short, their narrow limits flattening out artistic practices that escape any categorical grip.

Sandri’s book is comprised of three sections (though there are many other ways to slice it). In the first, symbols—including semi-circles, triangles, squares, dots, square dots, dashes, lines, quotation marks, etc.—swarm for about 30 pages. Section two opens with a very long vertical line, suggesting a rip through the continuum. The texture of the line soon grows more intricate, with the accrual of several characters resting along its length, until the line transmogrifies, first halved and horizontal, then nearly full, and still horizontal. In section three, symbols return like star bursts, followed by the first sighting of numbers and letters, including some outsized fricatives that are tempting to sound out loud. The book ends with a single zero—or is it the letter O?—tenderly laid out at the bottom of the page.

The signs and symbols in this book intimate some kind of movement, and there is a palpable tension in the space that surrounds them, as if they are subject to an impetus concealed from the viewer. But even what is visible remains unknowable—the inscriptions express intention and wit, without reaching for comprehension.

An index (translated by Giacomo Sartorelli) includes items like: “point counter space,” “as Alice said to herself,” “Joyce,” and “cryptorhythms/visual concerto.” The least interesting possibility may be that the book’s many signs and symbols represent or depict the items in the index. Even if that were the case, they could only represent an extra-textual mode of thinking, since what they put forth is another creative order, not unlike dance or sculpture. One of the phrases included in the index is “there are more things Horatio,” to which I would add: “than are dreamt of in your language.”