My art is triggered by a feeling of need. It gives me the possibility to express that internal something which allows me to paint. I am always surprised, when the mixtures of colors and brush strokes pop out my hand moved by an unknown force,

The white canvas, always seems for me very difficult to soil, I have the feeling of not knowing where I am heading to, of having forgotten the path, not knowing my job. At the beginning, colors and forms which I use are strangers to me. It’s the impulse of the first brush stroke. Then I start to visualize what follows. Everything forms something real, something I know. A remembrance. A moment of my life, which has been so strong, that it has it’s own visual representation. Meaning there is an abstraction composed by elements born from a profound feeling. There are no free elements.  They are experiences which are strongly contained in my inner self, mostly feelings of pain, anguish but also of happiness.

Art is a need for me, a kind of destiny. As for the paintings, it is the dreams and for the colors it is the paintings of the Quattrocento : Giotto, the magic which keeps while awake the illusion of dreams, art magistral reality.

Day and night in my studio, there are motivations which appear under many forms. When I start to paint, I find myself submerged in a turmoil with the feeling of going far away, entering a paradise lost :

« Meanwhile in utmost longitude where Heaven

With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun

Slowly descended , and with right aspect

Against the eastern gate of Paradise

Levelled his evening rays. »  

Paradise Lost, John Milton.

I find it impossible to describe with words my most deep emotions, I feel that Milton’s words come close to the expression of my minds internal chaos.

My paintings are never-ending, I am not able transcend the unknown.

The day I will be able to, then, I will maybe stop painting.