Sweden

I have never been able to really understand what is special in the Swedish Light.

Maybe it is the sun's rays, always a little oblique, that project long shadows also at midday.
Maybe it is the transparency of the air, crisp and clear, that makes things shine in an almost surreal way, for one who is used to live in Milan's smog.
Maybe it is the landscape, totally flat, that makes the horizons look so low and the skies so high.

Nevertheless, this light is magic.

It is intensely desired, during the long Darkness of Winter. It is celebrated (in the great popular celebrations of Spring and of "Mid Summer") with a passion that gushes out from deep, a primordial passion, still today the primitive feast for the victory of Light in its war against Darkness.

A Light that animates with pure colors villages and towns, a landscape spread of multicolor huts.

A Light that sets fire to trees with reds, yellows, oranges in an Autumn that is a thin buffer between the short Summer and the long Winter.

A Light that in Summer time animates unforgettable evenings, where an eternal sunset starts to paint the sky late in the afternoon and continues its pictorial work till late at night.

This magic has attracted my fantasy, has come with my first steps as an apprentice watercolorist, has materialized in my first pictorial experiments.