Original artwork description:

That old little red house
Oil on canvas 50x70

I remember that I always went through the woods to collect leaves and flowers
The path dressed in autumn, you could still smell the smells
Smells of soups and soups coming from the old red house
The mother prepared, the aunt helped her and the cousin spoke, laughed and made the strange move
how nice it was to hide and watch the grazing
nearby fawns who loved each other and started playing
while the adults took care of the daily burden
I, as a child, wandered along the path with my compass in hand
there in the woods everything seemed enchanted
he seemed enchanted by a strange elixir
You know when everything is muffled
And does a strange glow make you lose your breath?
I closed my eyes and started thinking
How many souls could pass through that path...

The recurring theme is always memory, but not of the experience, but of what was potentially experienced, by our ancestors, by our grandparents, young lives thought in the past, think about what they could do, see, think.
Then the protagonist enters, absorbed in his thoughts, in a dreamlike, simple, traditional scenario, linked to old images, small houses immersed in uncultivated nature, left to itself because today it is no longer lived in by man. Animals free to roam around, free to interact with the surrounding environment with the same protagonist.

Materials used:

oil colors, canvas

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