At the Sonnabend Collection among the desecrating geniuses of the 20th century

The Sonnabend Collection's welcome in the eleven rooms of the Palazzo della Ragione that will be its home for at least the next twelve years is given by none other than Cy Twombly and Robert Rauschenberg, accompanied by the imaginary ticking of typewriters physically present and assembled by Arman. Then one encounters the Hamletian mirror portraits of Michelangelo Pistoletto, that cart packed by a young Christo who first wrapped objects present from his Parisian studio, and then enters the sensual world of Roy Lichtenstein, the oddities of James Rosenquist with his incomparable Sliced Bologna, a transparent polyester film comparable to a curtain representing a mortadella in the act of being sliced. The jars, banknotes, flowers, Jackies, and packs of Brillo soaps conceived in Andy Warhol's flop forge highlight the value of this collection assembled by the sensitive tycoon Ileana Sonnabend to whom Warhol himself dedicated a double portrait taken in a photo booth. Claes Oldenburg's sculptures of European food, Sol Lewitt's wall drawing, Richard Serra's delicate rubber work, and Bruce Nauman's neon tubes also attest to the quality of this collection, in which the symbiotic Gilbert & amp;George with his glass altar Berries, Luigi Ontani with his Polittico dell'Olimpo, and Hiroshi Sugimoto's photographs also participate. And if Carroll Dunham with his psychedelic imagery arouses sympathy, Sabina Höfer and Clifford Ross project themselves into the 21st century. The grand finale is entrusted to the sacred and desecrating monsters Anselm Kiefer and Jeff Koons.