by Leonida Répaci

Yours is a grown up painting and it owns all that what on vitality can still be found in that extreme territory situated between the figurative ready to abandon arrogance, obligingness, meanness of the real, and a tempered abstractum which reassumes by almost emblematic forms such entities reality has lost by heaviness, discovered and explored patterns.

 I like the outlining in your paintings, its measures, proportions and the elegance of the talk, the richness of chromatic solutions, the potency so refined and elemental at the same time, of your colours among which the red in all its fulgency is predominating involving by its pure pictorial value both the psicoilogical and the moral world of the creative artist.

Your marine paintings taken under different lights during the day or in the reverberations of the galaxies, animated by crows on the beach or sunk into the loneliness of the night, have always their agonizing melancholy which gives to the compositions, to the paysage a certain tragic suspension.

 I like also some of your symbolic interpretations of today's life, your security when including into one of those incandescent prism's faces, that comes out of your pictures, definite forms of realities which then become surrealistic ones almost by a spontaneous generation.

My dear friend, it's you who shows that the real, when treated by necessary distance and love, owns still its myster and its poetry. Just continue like this and you will have your satisfactions.

Your paintings will continue to grow on the walls while other ones, praised, today, to the skies by groups of political and artistical power, will finish in Gynt's wastepaper basket.

Leonida Répaci

Translated by Gerard Pauer