I painted these canvases in August 2001. In September, planes crashed into the twin towers. Sometimes the painter foresees the tragic side of life. At first, it’s hell. The plane has crashed into the mountain, and the canvas is red with violence and blood. The shock is sharp pain, and the world is only violence and refusal. Then time passes, and life goes on. In the shadow of the tragedy, life dresses in sadness. The canvas is black, the plane is swallowed up in the dark, in the emptiness left by those who are gone. The last, smaller canvas is the white of shrouds. The pain is still there, but it has softened. The times are fulfilled, and the white that covers everything is the promise of future colors. Moreover, the night that rises is no longer so dark. A large protective triangle takes shape, and the small stars that light it are a sure sign of tomorrow.

Imagine you are a plane and you crash into a mountain. You feel pain, and red is the color of fire and the accident. Then time passes, and you feel sad and alone. The plane turns black. It is lost in the dark part of the painting. But slowly, your sadness softens. The last plane is all white, under a soft blanket of snow. Even if your sadness is still there, the white tells you that new colors will come soon. And in the night, a big shining triangle with stars is like a sign telling you that tomorrow everything will be alright.