I was born in Liguria in 1957. I started out drawing on the walls of our family home at a very early age. My parents decided to support my passion: as long as I drew elsewhere. From then on every gift consisted of sheets of paper, pencils and colors that I used up immediately.
After a classical schooling, circumstances led me to begin studying law, something for which I was quite unfit. But, due to the mysterious designs of destiny and thanks to those studies, I had the chance to meet Gino Scapinelli (1903-1985), my painting master. A fundamental encounter with a personage then unfairly forgotten (as often happens): painter, musician, set designer, passionate about poetry and philosophy.
He agreed to give me lessons only under certain conditions:
• "If you want to paint an apple blue, you first have to learn how to paint it red and green”
• "Leave the brushes alone for a while and focus on sketching”
• “Start copying the drawings of the Masters you like the most” (I chose Michelangelo and Rembrandt)
• “Even if you can draw only one line, do it every single day”
• “Don’t be afraid of copying masterpieces: that teaches how to be humble. And, through observation, you’ll contrast the relationships and the unimagined subtleties you find: and so, learn how to look beyond appearances”
• “Painting means drawing”
• "Painting is thinking by way of images: therefore you’ll be needing humility, a great deal of reading and silence in order to meditate”
Since then I’ve always sought to follow these guidelines, aware of my own limits and difficulties. But my Master would also say: “The day you’ll be satisfied, you’ll stop painting.” That’s why since then I’ve always tried to keep his counsels in mind, continuing, day after day, to train my hand and eyes in order to always find new ideas in nature, as well as in my reading (poetry, philosophy and, of course, art).
Since several years, I have a small gallery in San Felice Circeo, a spot I fell in love with because, like many other places in Italy, it’s rich in myth, history and nature. Since I come from the northern mists, here I discovered a new and powerful light. And light, it’s said, is oxygen for painters. Not only being born but having lived for many years in Liguria, here I found myself rediscovering my love for the sea. Perhaps especially for this sea, so full of transparency and multicolored rocks, seeking in its caves and expanses of water a growing harmony with my soul and my origins, or rather, all of our origins.
I’ll continue to work and I hope to be able to do so forever, because our profession constantly makes us challenge ourselves. And it’s an outstanding means for asking important questions about life.