…. On the Magenta lips the past, the present and the future seasons arise together … And among ancient marbles and enigmatic smiles roses will bloom again.

When you loose someone dear, it is as if snow fell down in our heart: silent, pure and melancholic like the thought of those who left us.
It happens then at any moment of interior reflection we try to put an order to the continuous overlapping of thoughts which crowd our mind like the scenes of a movie where we were only actors and not directors.
The personal dialogue of ourselves with the lost person becomes then poetry, pure thought, a fusion of feelings and sweetness.
On such occasions it happens to look instinctively up in the sky, towards the stars: our eyes look for the star that apparently never moves there. It is the Pole Star, around which the Pole constellations rotate and thanks to this disposition they never set: Cassiopeia, Great Bear, Little Bear, where we can also find the Pole one.
According to their position in the sky, we can see the seasons of the earth: it is as if their eternal movement reflected the vital cycle of our planet and with it all the living creatures there.
Many people have lived on this old planet of ours, our home: ancient civilizations came before us, leaving traces of glory and culture behind themselves. We have inherited them and the stars have watched everything. Among ancient marbles we catch sight of those distant lights and then we feel as one with them: in their cosmic prospect, we become part of infinite spaces with those who lived before us, never known, and with those who have recently disappeared.
On sarcophaguses the Etruscans shaped statues of terracotta to remind the survivors of the person lost. They were and they still are statues of elegant and mysterious beauty… as mysterious as this population. With their big and Middle Eastern eyes, with their enigmatic smiles and delicate bodies, they make us part of distant lives who were born before us. Such lives were watched by the stars we can see today.
Maybe the poetry of life is turning our own memory into dreams and thoughts and putting some happy lights on the path waiting for us: and the living shape of the woman in the picture knows it.
The memory of those who died becomes a companion on our path, poetry of memories which are eternal: on the Magenta lips the past, the present and the future seasons arise together, like an eternal elegy of distant constellations… and among ancient marbles relying on those who came before us (and better than everyone else know the destiny of the whole mankind) is an immense joy.
Eternal snows will cover bare branches, but moving forever inside that terracotta, smiling with the same enigmatic eternal expression: each of us will be the “continuous” in the dreams of our lost beloved… and at that very moment roses will bloom again…

Dimensions : 50 x 70
Mixed painting technique: “Pablo” pencil + tempera