The Ballerina Painting

I am a common man of Naples, Italy. My art training began in a traditional apprenticeship with Mario Allegretti, where the first words I heard were, “Copy this!” These were the old harsher ways in Italy: akin to when my father threw me overboard into the Mediterranean to learn to swim. I was frightened, yes - but the adrenaline rushes bonded my soul to these passions as my oils since bond to canvas. Later in the studio with "Maestro" Giovanni Panza, I learned techniques that had been passed along for centuries. It was important to watch with a wily eye, because each maestro would keep certain "Macchiaioli" tricks to himself: a tiny variation of brush, stroke or loading that could transform a result. During my “starving artist” period, a dealer would commission 100 copies at $10 each (no, I’m not joking). I would line the walls of my studio with a dozen canvases and paint them all simultaneously. Was it art? More like practice scales to a musician, I think. Today, though, I rely on the extensive skills gained in order to produce works using my hybrid of various Impressionist approaches. I paint a variety of subjects, because I simply paint whatever I feel to paint. I may feel to paint dancers for a daughter, antique boats with nostalgia, cherubs for a client - so long as the inner connection remains compelling, the work flows without cognition. For me, “I feel to paint’ is like salmon feel to swim to spawn: the impulse and impetus and irrevocable conclusion are inseparable. I believe my generation is the end of centuries of traditional apprenticed, working painters. My desire in the next few years is to bring my " Scuola di Posillipo" (Posillipo's School) skills to historic subjects, fantasy scenes, and,of course, my beloved Neapolitan seascapes. Perhaps even the sunsets of my new home in Texas