Silvia Osio
Brescia / Italy
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“What is real, abstract, surreal? They are inexact words linked to a superficial phraseology. Only one thing must be real for every painter: his paint.”
Typescript 1950, Novelli file, Rome.
The cement that I use in my works tells stories and builds walls and fragments of the past of those who wished to leave a mark of their presence or often the echo of an absence. Scraping the cement, I often see worlds appearing on the surface, emerging from the depths, like shells at low tide.
Nothin
Typescript 1950, Novelli file, Rome.
The cement that I use in my works tells stories and builds walls and fragments of the past of those who wished to leave a mark of their presence or often the echo of an absence. Scraping the cement, I often see worlds appearing on the surface, emerging from the depths, like shells at low tide.
Nothin
“What is real, abstract, surreal? They are inexact words linked to a superficial phraseology. Only one thing must be real for every painter: his paint.” Typescript 1950, Novelli file, Rome. The cement that I use in my works tells stories and builds walls and fragments of the past of those who wished to leave a mark of their presence or often the echo of an absence. Scraping the cement, I often see worlds appearing on the surface, emerging from the depths, like shells at low tide. Nothin