Acrylic on canvas
122 x 152 cm

The first breaking point of the collapse of the House of God, preached by Christianity, happened during the years of the Renaissance. Permissive years of extreme lassitude, when the clergy overtly succumbed to an irrational, mad and demonic rhythm of life. Yes, we are talking about the triumph of carnal desires, the final apotheosis of intoxication. The Popes fornicated for centuries, surrendered to incest, ruled the world with their mercenaries, and became omnipotent. Isn't it a tragedy to be a man an eternally dissatisfied animal, suspended between life and death? Nothing can justify suffering, right? So, all of this applies to the clergy, too, right? Well, the sexual dizziness of the clergy was consumed to the point of absurdity. What happened to the monks who renounced the world to consecrate themselves to asceticism, convinced that they have radically overcome human relativity? Have they ever existed? Or were they just a farce? The humble congregations around the world couldn’t believe what they were seeing with their own eyes. The altar suddenly seemed uncertain, and God was more and more perceived as a stateless being living in exile. Only a few orthodox Catholics, obese with fear, followed the original Gospel, while the multitude dived into impure decadence and into a corrupted state of prostituted existence. Cruel? Yes, but true. The second crack in the Christian foundations was due to the imperialist attitude of the Vatican, with its armies of mercenaries and love for geo-political influence. There is no form of intolerance, of proselytism or ideological intransigence which fails to reveal the savage substratum of enthusiasm. Gallows, dungeons, jails flourished only in the shadow of faith, right? The holy Inquisition became God’s slaughterhouse, right? However, with the start of the auto-da-fé, the Catholic Church refined nothing more but the art of self-destruction. Well, Inquisitions fuelled the appetite for heresy and cheerful martyrs, right? Spain became the first doubter in eruption against the homicidal talents of the Holy Church. Venomous pomp and circumstance, corrupted craving for splendour and an ecstatic longing for majestic grandeur ruled in Vatican City. No wonder the lucidity of greedy Cardinals and Monsignors got clouded. Even today in the 21st Century the Vatican has still got mercenaries in the form of the Swiss Guards, the Bodyguards of the Pontifex Maximus. What if Joseph would have told the truth? Maybe his son would have remained an obscure Jew, right? Maybe we wouldn’t have even heard of the Vatican? Be that as it may, in the centre of the painting, we see a Bishop, who is walking the ranks of perversion, beatifying terrorised nuns. Meanwhile Swiss Guards are keeping law and order in this indecorous whore house of sexual pestilence and leprous glory. On the lower right we see a blond woman crying, she symbolises the collective unconscious filled with sadness and incredulity. In front of all this chaos and certitude of delirium one wonders with open eyes. God’s silence seems more of an outcry. And his hand a missed promise. The style in this painting varies from American pulp illustrations, through to Italian comic strips of the 70s to a daub of pre-baroque tenebrism.