MY JOURNEY INTO THE COLOR by Laura Ferretti   I   feel   the   color,   I   love   them   so   my   painting   is   a   journey   into   the   color.   For   twenty   years   I   have   been   moving   along   and   changing   my relationship   with   them.   I   began   using   flat   colors   painted   on   small   areas   shading   off   into   the   distance.   Paintings   took   shape   and thickness trough the juxtaposition of monochromatic, but brighter or darker, areas (Marsh plants). Going   on,   the   touch   of   my   brush   became   thicker   and   more   expressive.   It   looked   more   intense   and   direct   thanks   to   the   first   strokes   of spatula that crossed, sure, the flat ground. Quickly   spatula   became   protagonist:   it   is   my   preferred   tool,   both   for   enlarged   areas   (Maremma),   and   for   rough   and   complex   ones (Under   a   blue   sky:   geraniums   and   Joy   in   sinking   ),   and   for   monochromatic   and   detailed   paintings   which   spatula   various   directions gives shape and three-dimensionality (Alive water). As   to   colors   as   a   medium,   too,   my   evolution   was   long.   I   used   everything:   pastels,   sprays,   acrylic,   enamels   but,   at   the   end,   just   oil colors   survived. They   are   ductile,   pliant,   and   silky. They   are   alive   under   my   spatula. And   painting   becomes   a   vital   moment   because   it needs   resolution   and   lightness   of   touch,   because   you   have   to   let   colors   mix   up   or   to   force   them   to   remain   themselves.   My   secret   is: a spatula and few oil colors. Only five colors to give rise to all the colors of the world. Sometimes I add a bit of gold. Colors   have   a   lot   of   feelings,   maybe   all   the   feelings   of   life.   Sometimes   life   is   very   rich   and   then   paintings   became   more   intense   and polychrome   (Spring   redundancies).   Sometimes   a   feeling,   a   mood   overcomes   and   paintings   become   monochromatic   (Symphony   of yellow   ,   Moonlight   on   the   hills   ,   Peace   amid   the   fir   trees).   Sometimes   a   color   prevails,   like   the   crushing   strength   of   the   yellow-life   in Sunflowers   come   out   of   darkness.   The   rhythmical,   unforeseeable   moving   of   waves,   the   winking   of   stars   in   the   sky,   the   throbbing   of the   wind   crossing   through   the   wood.   Quite   astonished,   we   let   ourselves   carried   away   by   the   spectacular   and   multiform   magnificence of   the   creation.   In   a   small   piece   of   meadow   we   find   out   myriads   of   flowers.   They   are   small,   modest,   dispersed,   sometimes   unknown. But   beautiful   too.   A   gift.   A   Gift   that   gives   rise   to   joyful   gratitude.   And   then,   my   palette-knife   “plays”on   canvas   with   yellow   and   blue. From   it   come   out   worlds   wrapped   in   a   magical   green-blue   light.   On   them   some   coloured   corollas   stand   out.   A   fragment   comes   out from gold, breaking it, and remembers us everything is Gift (The Gift: red roses). But   the   color   I   felt   and   played   with   at   the   most   is   black.   On   ‘94   I   painted   a   canvas   with   acrylic   black   color   and,   on   this   flat,   I   painted flowers    (Moon    glade)    or    landscapes.    Later,    on    four    black    canvases,    I    left    black    zones    shrinking    more    and    more    until    they disappeared.   This   black   was   emblematic   of   negative   moments   (death   is   the   greatest   one)   that   arrive   into   our   lifetime   and   break   it (Crossing   the   black   1,   2,   3,   4   ).   This   black   shrinks   if   the   will   accepts   it   and,   at   the   same   time,   consents   to   win   it   keeping   life-colors apart from black, but, if black wins, everything turns into gray. Later   black   wasn’t   so   fatally   black   and   became   a   mixture   of   yellow,   red   and   blue.   The   new   black,   alive   mixture,   is   spread   and   moved by   the   spatula   and   illuminated   by   tiny   drops   of   gold.   This   black   is   the   ground,   the   undetermined   time.   Its   indistinct   rolling   by   is sacred,   as   life.   And   seasons   come   up   from   this   black   ground:   orange   and   blue   for   summer   (Orange   flowers,   blue   shades),   yellow and   violet   for   autumn   (Autumn   in   yellow   and   violet),   colored   whites   for   winter   (Improbable   snowfall)   and   red   and   green   for   spring   (As red sorceries). The cyclic arising of seasons is a leitmotiv in my painting because I feel, in this cycling way, the power to exorcise the same death. We   all   feel   time   rolling   by   and   we   would   like   to   catch   a   flying   moment   and   make   it   eternal.   It   is   the   time   of   the   ephemeral   flowers,   of the passing clouds (Fidget and serenity). It is the time of sunset (Just one moment). Lately   I   painted   another   time.   It   is   a   time   enchanting   my   mind   before   my   heart,   a   time   unfamiliar   to   watches,   a   time   that   gives dimension   to   space.   This   time   becomes   a   view   of   sunflowers   materializing   themselves   out   of   the   golden-   black   of   the   indistinct   time. The flowers are throbbing with the delight of life that is arising from the abysses of vacuum (Sunflowers arising). The   black,   mixture   of   yellow,   red   and   blue,   has   another   meaning.   This   black   contains   all   the   colors   of   the   world,   but   they   are   mixed together,   entirely.   They   missed   their   personality.   There   is   a   painting,   Joy-colors   from   the   heart   of   black,   that   shows   the   joy   of   the colors   free   from   the   black   prison.   They   run   out   from   the   mixcture,   appear   bright   happy   and   show   their   unique   personality   (Joy-colors from the heart of black). Lately   my   expressive   feeling   induces   me   to   imbue   with   emotions   that   make   poetic   my   landscapes   moving   in   nuances   or   evocatively lost   in   the   mist.   Contours   disappear,   shapers   turn   into   allusions,   secret   atmospheres   alluding   with   marks   that   don’t   tell.   A   new spiritually appears, timid, through hiding and rarefied charm of colors (Toward to the sky).  
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Laura Ferretti  painter