Text

A pencil draws a border,
a barrier beyond which you cannot go,
the line, istinctive, acquires structure at the meeting of the edge of the canvas.
The color, in its liquid dimension,
supports gravity until it settles on the surface, on the canvas that covers the floor,
filling it with uncontrollable nuances.
So, fields of color, like drops falling on the ground,
are created
becoming part of the surface on which they rest.
Sinuous and elegant shapes are generated,
dynamic and in movement they appropriate of the space
which lost its own dimensions:
verticality and horizontality vanish. They do not exist anymore.

Water, rushes.
Music, goes upstream.

And from there, where they were born,
similar to notes that move in the air, they go upstream
shapes as flying dancers.
Soft and floating they hover, duplicate, triple,
until to create sisters of the same symphony.
Space is their theatre, the wall is their scenography.
So they reach the looks,
direct and curious,
of uncertaing observers.
These, led by an empty music,
are lost in clarity and, in a clear rhythm,
they wander without interruption.

 

Alessia Romano

A pencil draws a border,
a barrier beyond which you cannot go,
the line, istinctive, acquires structure at the meeting of the edge of the canvas.
The color, in its liquid dimension,
supports gravity until it settles on the surface, on the canvas that covers the floor,
filling it with uncontrollable nuances.
So, fields of color, like drops falling on the ground,
are created
becoming part of the surface on which they rest.
Sinuous and elegant shapes are generated,
dynamic and in movement they appropriate of the space
which lost its own dimensions:
verticality and horizontality vanish. They do not exist anymore.

Water, rushes.
Music, goes upstream.

And from there, where they were born,
similar to notes that move in the air, they go upstream
shapes as flying dancers.
Soft and floating they hover, duplicate, triple,
until to create sisters of the same symphony.
Space is their theatre, the wall is their scenography.
So they reach the looks,
direct and curious,
of uncertaing observers.
These, led by an empty music,
are lost in clarity and, in a clear rhythm,
they wander without interruption.

 

Alessia Romano

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