The prodigious landscapes that Cavelier paints with masterly fluidity do not take us to any specific place: rivers and forests, mountains and mangroves or seas are above all passages to enter contemplative states. Neither the large triptychs in oil and silk, nor the small watercolors of cloud forests or the murals composed of tempera of rivers and seas describe a particular place. They take us back to all the spaces traversed by humanity in time and experienced by its sister,

Through the title that introduces the exhibition, the young painter Qian Wu , a guest in Florence for the first time, proposes an immersion in the rereading of the verses of the great Chinese poet Xu Zhimo, who in June 1925, from the slopes of the Apennine mountains overlooking the valley of Florence, wrote the homonymous lyric in one go, giving voice to a young woman whose lover would leave her before dawn: “You have awakened my sleep and given me back my innocence / How c

In the history of painting as well as literature we find nomadic souls: we know them as artists-travellers or variously as travellers-artists. Let’s imagine the first to travel through territories and plough rivers to find new depths of inspiration, where art is the ultimate goal; the seconds rather love the journey itself; therefore the journey represents the goal, destined then to become the object of painting. Sometimes the difference is labile. Of course in the Chinese ar

There is no single path to art. Nor are there materials with greater legitimacy than others in artistic practice. Even the fortuity of chance – as the avant-gardes teach – can play a role both in the origin of inspiration and in the choice of means to use. For Horst Beyer, things went exactly like this. That is, it was chance that acted as a vehicle for the intuition that pushed him to radically change the materials and aesthetic values of his artistic work. After his first y