Accordo Frantumato

In the Accordo Frantumato wallpaper I have gathered the voice of a luthier's workshop broken down into planes, where each object stops being singular and becomes a fragment of a wider argument. It is a design that belongs to Cubism, and in particular to its analytical moment: violins and guitars show their broken curves, a trumpet reveals its bell and its tubing, the fluted necks of mandolins interweave with staves and scattered notes, while jugs and cylindrical bottles lend their profile to a continuous lattice of angular shards, with no isolated voids, anchored just off centre by a slightly larger cluster of forms that gives the eye somewhere to rest.

The palette is earthy and contained — umber, ochre, warm grey, muted olive green, charcoal, with rare accents of matt terracotta and bone white — so close in value that form emerges from tone rather than from outline. Close up you find dense hatching, scraped edges, thin pencil lines drawing sound holes, clefs, reflections in glass: a genuine painterly hand, not a decorative print.

I like to think that this wallpaper tells of how music and matter share the same secret architecture. At WallZad every surface is reproduced in keeping with the original brushwork, so that even across an endless wall the gesture of the person who painted it first remains legible.