It is about metaphysical alchemies. The lightness of the tones, perspective measures, of dream like atmospheres, informs the pictures of this most delicate painter, to whom the strength of provocation does not lack. A silent, shy provocation, whispered, that betrays the contained expressiveness: a poetic of the “said and not said”, a suffused air of love for the celestial shades, is worth to say the transparencies of the skies, where the objects are and they are not, they are condensed and they vanish in tentacular filaments, emblematic, that have a lyrical and meaning value and also, like a connection of the unexpressed ideas, of the soft and incomplete artistic dictation.
Now, to which school Beatrice belongs to? I do not really believe in schools, to the record of cases that would like to give a logic and sort every shape of art in the trends, in the aesthetic of the group. However, I have spoken before of metaphysical alchemies and this is just my impression, subjective, personal: I must say it is an informal that ends up in the antimateric, like saying that Beatrice wants to cancel the things, in order to give them a spirit.
Therefore it is about poetry entrusted to arcane symbols, not only to the tone aspect, because the etchings end the xylographies (among other things the best achievements of this painter) are far beyond from the color (I would suggest as main-picture Ricordi pungenti 2, an extraordinary sad and dark skeleton of the world and a philosophical determinism that refers to our existential condition, in contrast with the sweet melancholy of the pictures, like Tra cielo e terra).
Between the painting and the world, there is almost a transparent diaphragm, like yellow airframes, green, pale blue, in multiple range and very refined. Apparently a simple palette, but instead sophisticated and learned. But soft. Like a spirit that is to on the same side of its expression. And this is the part of lyrical secret of Beatrice. They are unreal, faraway atmospheres, not even inside a dream, but to the threshold: between waking and dream, in a very light mix of dreams and new reality.
I cannot say more, I confess that I can not even be bothered , since a more eloquent silence of the word and of the writing suits better with the candour of these works, so simple, so light, without material; and yet so beautiful and remarkable that it is impossible to forget them.
Aldo Onorati
Poet and writer

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