Artist statement.

I pursue integrity, sincerity of expression and wonder.

The “room” where I work and explore is between art and craftsmanship. I like the Latin word “ars”, which means “skill method” or “technique”, and holds a connotation of beauty.

Sometimes I’ll find some forgotten moments of my own life, other times verses and personages belonging to my heritage and culture, which I like to quote or play with, demystify, as children do. I don’t present grand narratives but small crucial moments:  Penelope paradoxically abandoning Ithaca just the moment when Odysseus returns, the hand of a child reaching for that very special Bocca di dama cake, the windy afternoon where Little Red Riding Hood left home.

The inhabitants of this world might be mine or come from fairytales, the Bible or ancient Greek mythology, and speak both a daily and an epic language. Penelope, Cinderella, the drawing cyclist, Mary Poppins, Mother Earth…my female personages perform stereotyped roles: as daughters, mothers, and lovers. Men appear more sporadically, sometime as wondering or puzzled passengers or overconfident heroes: Narcissus, Ulysses, the Knight, the playing child.

The two parallel worlds of men and women can temporarily communicate through love and passion; couples in bed in empty squares or gardens again and again search for each other, embrace, caress, kiss, sleep, and enjoy their centrality in the universe.

They can also meet around dining tables, under huge autumn trees, lemons or grapes, where women lovingly prepare and serve meals, and relatives and friends share and consume food, feelings and stories.

 Idealized families and pleasant moments, levity and joy. But the table is a temple, where they confirm and celebrate their belonging to a group and to life itself.

Shoes, eggs, bright colored wheeled houses transport small groups of people in oceans, deserts, beaches, in a continuous journey, only a few essential things will follow  them: books, suitcases, high-heeled shoes, rocking horses, car toys.


The setting is not a part of historic time, but rather a sort of universal zone, similar to fairytales or to childhood memories, which indelibly repeat again and again the same familiar  scenes:  an aunt making cakes, a brother giving you his hand, the day you dreamed of a fox.

Exploring fantasy, memory and desire, I search for an approach to art full of awareness and contrasts while giving place to humor, compassion, and mystery.