(..)Then the metaphorical matter became etched, told and written skin; a skin willing to be engraved like a filigree, pierced by tiny holes and scratches but, nonetheless, retaining its beauty, so full of meaning and scars which, if endured and metabolized, acquire the same elegance of a jewel.
Gestures then house the same exact poetic dimension, becoming delicate calligraphies or else opening to only apparently raging impulses, which are instead always thoughtful, carefully studied even when, at first sight, they may seem dictated by a primary impulse. Colors then tune in on this thought-out gesture in a texture of light hues that move from the snowy whiteness of the gauzes to the melancholy of sandy and ashy soils. It is as if the surfaces themselves would surrender to the embrace of sudden strokes of deep blacks or the sparking of vibrant reds in an always calm, resolved, silent and absorbed writing, which is aware and willing to accept the responsibility to tell the world and always careful to what is least loud and deafening. In telling that it gathers onto itself the traces of its remaining beauty with its lumbering burden of flaws and doomed necessities, with its intuitions and uncertain enchantments and the possibilities of redemption or change collected and drawn along its journey. A journey, which is fortunately destined to remain unfinished.
From Track Cervia Public Library