Phalenopsis synphony1

About this painting I Can say it Is a big centered stone For me. Actually it Is a watercolour, I am happy I could find the strenght of colour And impetuosity. I love those colors and their freshness. It is like a jump into the jungle in early morning with sun shining. As you you know I can paint proper figurative art, and I like it, but I always miss that quid of mystery and change that real life has. Into my abstract-figurative expressionist postpop phalenopsis I can totally and freely swimm into the beauty and mystery of nature. Don't you? Let me know your thoughts about

Art & personality

I believe art, true art Is an artist´ Mirror. So every time I paint, right after I think about what happened. I love painting figurative but suddenly I am getting involved into a more open idea of figurative, the one that keeps inside more air, more time and more possibilities to change and more than this the feeling of the subject painted. Here there are my Phalenopsis Orchids

Step by step : phalenopsis

Phalenopsis are gorgeous and inspiring flower to me. On the right side I decided to be into the form of a pink phalenopsis then after the first flower I wanted to paint the feeling of phalenopsis ...

Jump into a dream

When I started painting this watercolour I wished to feel that sweetness and freshness of a clean and pure sea so I touched that magnificent light blue. Then I dreamed about sunset when the sun caresses the water. And orange and pink and all their variations became kings of the sky. Then I felt seagulls flyng together coming home to sleep. suddenly I wished to see a little of land, couple of magnificent palms and a warm beach to lay down a little. Then i was looking for some human life.. A silent sailing boat floating far away. All these happened in grey and violet and brown .. All shades next to the big sun. Then I wanted something more happening into the sea... Big fishes hunting together. And here it is my little jump into a dream

Have you ever seen happy parrots like these?

I love parrots, I loved parrots since I was a child, my favourite carnival mask I was so proud to wear, while all my girlfriends were princess and queens.. I was just a big funny parrot, the red Ara with such huge wings. One of the reason is that when they fly over chirping so loud everything become so happy and fantastic. They always have so many things to say each other I guess! Next the place I live there is a big pomegranate tree . Parrots go crazy for pomegranate. When they arrive , always in a group of 4/5, it seems just the begin of big party! Such a funny moment to see them eating and chirping and jumping here and there. I truly love those amazing creatures.

Singulart

I am proud to announce that Singulart, from France is starting   to sell few of my paintings.

https://www.singulart.com/it/artista/flavia-mantovan-1555

Inviato da iPhone

Never left the Soup again

So it is a while I am thinking I have to do this... But it looks so complicate that I even don't know from where to start. To make it short I like to live the present, fully, without thinking too much about past time and tring to do not think too much also about the future. In this case it will be about the present but with some exceptions. I would like to write the story of my grandfather and I would like it written for my child, as it is a story that must be remembered. My grandfather when was 18 was sent as a soldier into the 2nd world war to conquest Serbia. He was a balilla under Mussolini and he had to obey whatever was ordered. So he was trained as a machine gunner when the war happened he had to leave everything and he was so young though. During the Serbia' campaign there were many complications for him as they were in the middle of a guerriglia. Few time after they were in Serbia  it happened the armistice and  he was captured as a political prisoner by the Germans. Once in Dakau he told me that they were asked to sign and if they wouldn't accept the forced labour into the mine they were shooted. He survived and during the prisons' time he even learned to speak German. So well that a certain point Germans were going to kill him as they believed he wasn't italian but a german betrayal. Only his friend, an Italian guy son of a very important family, prisoner too, could save him with his prompt action. Telling he teached him German in night time. I still remember so well my grandfather Vittorio telling me that while he was a prisoner he could eat only sometimes few potatoes peels, everything was so dramatic. With such cold winter and no shoes the mine labour was going to make him loose his feet. They became black, a German doctor saved them by pulling off all the flesh of his feet. Because of this he was sent to another forced camp, no more mine but vegetable garden into a greenhouse for some German chief. Thanks to England and USA bombing, after a while under the earth he realized he was alive, barely he could breath and he escaped. With some other prisoner survived they moved toward Hungary . Tring to survive the were again captured by the Cosacchi that left them without clothes and shoes. He was kind of 30 kilos weight when with his fellows they met Russians, that fed them to survive. He still had his clock and when a soldier tried to steel it, his chief shooted thieve in the head, in front of my grandfather who said it didn't matter as much though. The Russian General said no place for thieves. With the Russian army my grandfather reached Berlin and then he could come back home to my grandmother that patiently was waiting for him all this time. At the beginning she received his letters, when he was prisoner they were all black, all censored, but at least she knew he was alive . Then for a while with no letters it was much more difficult for her to believe he could make back home. My grandfather died at the age of 72, he loved the nature, he received even a medal from the army and he loved cats and all animals. Of course he loved his children and his nephews.  I bring his surname. He was from Venice. He was very lucky and he had to fight for his life. Every time we were at dinner together and I didn't want to eat the soup he told me the story of the potatoes peels. The soup never left again.

To my grandfather to my grandmother that are watching by the sky. 

To my baby and my nephew and all the new generations that could remember this story as a treasure.