“Sui generis” is the title I have given to this collection and it seems suitable. There are some paintings which are really strange. I don’t know what to think of them and where to put them…are they figurative? Are they abstract? Are they beautiful? Are they ugly? How can I define them?
And, as it is difficult to establish a border line among the countless nuances following which I pass from one language to another, from what is interesting to what is uninteresting, from the original to the predictable, from what is good to what is bad…I think I will postpone my opinion on them, as it is written in the sacred books, in that well known parable of the sower about God’s endless patience.
I must admit that these paintings sometimes embarrass me and I pretend not to know them as if they where illegitimate children to feel ashamed of. However, very often, I owe them the opening of new sceneries.
They witness my various different interests…and also my uncertainty which often turns into doubt and second-thoughts. I find them set with unquestionable anarchy in the planned route of my human and artistic life, like the bricks of a framework I am building. A good structure, though, square and essential, with the brickwork in full view to escape the monotony of the squared stones with some clay tiles in various size and colour, just like my days.
I find here truth and coherence and to sum up I see there is also some beauty together with the revealed meaning. That particular, imperfect and irregular beauty I can find in the life which always goes round itself, hinged on its supporting axis, into the orbit of its sun.