Around 1978, counter to the sparkling but alienating city life, the contents of my pictures became more intimate and offered a human level poetic, made of small humble things: din and silence, a cautious realism against blind optimism. The beauty of a packet of cigarettes thrown on a heap of stones. The poetry of the sky reflection in a pool of water or on broken glass, against the arrogance of a civilization described by the rhetoric of the media.
It is in this period when the need to express myself in a new way became evident: I had to leave behind the two-dimensionality of the canvas and move to a three-dimensionality of painting on different plans. All this in order to make my poetic more incisive and credible.