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| He pours onto Friuli his radically Venetian
painting, first hesitantly, in an effort to understand and make himself
understood, to begin a dialogue that would have no end. His first
works are timid landscapes, almost an approach, where he feels the
need for some tangible, traditional point of reference – the
horizon marked by trees or bushes, by bunches of shapeless vegetation
– but soon he would paint the great expanses of river Tagliamento,
those white paintings which demand a title, and he puts in smoothed
stones, collected on the pebbly beds. |
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