Venice

The arches of St. Marks’ square paraded under my gaze before my rushed step. It was almost closing time at museu correr and a large selection of francis bacon’s paintings awaited me, in that impressive show in the year of his death. Impressive will always be a relative appreciation. It was so for myself, also because it was the first time i was seeing in person a great number of his paintings side-by-side. The second time was at Serralves. Pink, yellow, green, browns and reds drip, or better yet, soak, penetrate the canvas. The colours drip not more than necessary but flow in dimension and power of calculated movement. Sometimes i look for that movement in my movement, and those same colour