I studied at the Academy of Fine Arts in Bologna, I graduated in Rome in Phenomenology of perception with particular attention to the work of Merleau-Ponty on Cezanne’s painting. I love painting above all things. The clarity of Paolini and the chaos of Twombly, the poetry of Morandi and the entropy of the universe augmented by Frank Stella… and many others!
I’m interested in the theoretical and philosophical study combined with artistic experimentation.
Since 2004 I have been collaborating with the Giorgio and Isa de Chirico Foundation, for which I carry out research, conferences, publications and exhibitions.
My exhibition, however, I distilled them with dropper: looking in silence for my most authentic voice possible… I have often given preference to experiences such as travels and residences (Sweden, Greece, Holland etc.).
The wide international breadth of Artrooms is what has most attracted me: I think it could be for me a truly significant experience of growth, that of meeting, comparison and sharing with Artists and Curators from all over the world.
What is the space of painting in a world overdosed with images? Maybe to make some space?
G. C. Argan said that space exists in our consciousness (Argan has ruined my life!)
If space exists in my consciousness, what is this something that surrounds me and wich we call the world?
My painting still fights with the problem of representation. How to explain the multitude of images around me, fragments of the visible that fits together with those of my mind (inhabited by the ghosts of other images: memories, projections, fantasies…?)
Infinite overlapping layers: painting is almost a stratigraphy.
How to return the density of what I mean (today and always) to be…. a human being?
I have the impression that something happens in painting that also happens in love. The possibility of understanding through the senses, of formulating theories of the world, perhaps engaging that consciousness of wich we are not really fully conscious.
Magritte said that in a work by de Chirico (Le Chant d’amour, 1914) it seemed to him that he had seen the thought for the first time.
I suspect that the opposite is also possible: painting allow us to think with the body.
And the body is also that of painting itself: its skin, which is nothing but a canvas that has been dryng for a century or a day.
“Painting is a colored canvas spread out to dry”.
These works are reflections on the meaning of painting itself, even today, in this “instant of the world that passes”.
In fact, painting seems to me to keep and tell a little bit about our human truth, a truth that appears and retracts, resembles its distant grek root (aletheia, truth like no concealment), something that shows itself and hides: it does not want and cannot offer a definitive image… the canvas turns like a shy mirror, the light appears and disappears, our life walks in a mysterious space because it is that of ourselves in time: it follows a trajectory that is as clear as it is incomprehensible. Unperturbed and partly obscure, like the moon.
“The lunar phases of painting”.
And we continually try to direct our gaze, understand how to look, and where to go…
“Always follows the direction of the clouds”.