M.APA

Against the noise and frenzy of destruction, Costrini presents the value of silence as a form of respite, a perceptive awareness of the regular and soothing rhythm of our own breathing.

C.ARDINI

The blue sky, the white of the houses, the trees in all their varied seasonal shades, the silence of the countryside – these are the recurring elements in Costrini’s sometimes dreamlike painting.  The vision of his works invites us to reflect; it is a pause from the frenzy of everyday life.  The play on light is a hope in the future, a hymn to the joy of living, an inner tranquillity which overcomes the adversities of everyday life.

A.R. D’ANTONA

Dreamlike landscapes with chromatic shading; a sensitivity and love of beauty.

B.VINCIGUERRA

The portrait and the nude are also subjects which interest Costrini and he addresses them in his sculptures, paintings and drawings. Renoir maintained that the nude was "an essential form of art.". Costrini portrays his women indoors, thus catching them in natural, unaffected poses which  are both captivating and seductive. Thanks essentially to him, his characters appear to take full delight in their physical form.

E.FABIANI

Looking at the rural works of this painter we believe it only fitting to quote the famous English painter Constable (1776-1873) who wrote: " these scenes made me a painter- and I am grateful." This Roman painter not only embraces a world which is new to him, he also paints a good picture - and that is what counts.

Places of Silence: by Prof. Mariano Apa  (An appraisal of Costrini's  solo exhibition at Castel Gandolfo)

Writing and painting possess, in themselves, the value of expression.  The image created through the intermediary of writing or of painting becomes a mirror in which we see ourselves reflected, so the artist’s work becomes a visualisation of one’s true inner self.

 In this way, a work of art becomes an act of speech.  The personal form of expression does not remain locked within the individual as his own voyage of discovery, but rather, it succeeds in catching the attention and engaging the thoughts of the onlooker - irrespective of who creates the image.  The true solitude of the artist must translate itself into a form of “shared solitude” with the audience, a feeling of joy or restlessness which involves and forces the observer to participate in a personal expression of self.  This well-known condition was defined for all time by Rilke in his “Young Poet” as being  “the essential, inner state of the artist or poet, which determines his ability to communicate on a universal level - by allowing himself to cut out all the dead wood from an otherwise fragile attempt to identify and declare one’s true self.”

 The expression of self is deeply-rooted in the human condition, something between a delight and a desperation.  Therefore, it is only right that we should dip into the diaries of the poets or the letters of the artists.  These are their “essays” which enable us to develop a true awareness of their artistic identity.  Through them we can see and understand the cultural journey which has moulded their poetic conception.

 Renato Costrini allows us a glimpse into his “Logbook”, which charts his navigation through nature and history within a geography of artistic culture.  It is this journey which has moulded and formed the expression and the discipline of his desire to write and to paint.  With both a genuine shyness and a proud assertion of his true self, Costrini has created a poetic concept which is rooted in sensitivity and emotional intelligence.  Nature and history, feelings and existential questions are blended together in images which glorify and extol the “silent places”.  However, these places of silence are not remote places, far beyond the hustle and bustle of the real world; rather, they are “pauses” from the noise of everyday life.

 Terrifying noises, like sudden outbursts, unleash in us the “blood of desperation”.  Costrini offers us the gentleness of silence as a pause, a moment suspended in time and place, a fleeting dilation of the “hardship of life”.

 Against the noise and the frenzy of destruction, Costrini presents the value of silence as a form of respite, a perceptive awareness of our own breathing.  This is not “silence” in a reclusive sense, far removed from the outside world, but silence in an ethical sense.  It means the ability to stop running and to reassert the value of walking.  It means being able to look at the world around us and discover for ourselves, in Nature and in Man, the intimate religious secret that the layman can see beyond the high wall to the mountain peaks beyond, he can assemble “the pieces of the puzzle”

This is silence as a place, silence as a concrete reality, a physical space where we can define the nature of existence, a place where we can find a road to freedom, where we can begin a journey of initiation.  Beauty leads us to truth: in the same way, truth introduces us to beauty and the routine of our existence is moulded into the complex values of living by that which is just.

 Costrini suggests a form of “Humanism Revisited”, and its location in silence translates itself in the humanist’s demonstration of his active part in the miracle of existence.  It is present in the awe-inspiring ebb and flow of energy; in the tangible, universal instinct of the astonished gaze - eyes wide open and unblinkered by prejudice.  It is devoid of wordy idealism and long-winded reasoning on scholastic precepts.

 A healthy breath of fresh air pervades the artistic works and writings of Renato Costrini.  They contain a deeply satisfying humility and a profound willingness to surrender himself completely to the discipline of the work, a work which is envisaged in meticulous detail in order to create that fundamental form of expression which characterises every human being.  It is precisely this factor which shapes the deep-rooted, driving force of the poet and the artist.

 For a whole generation of artists, living in London, Berlin or Paris played a determining role in their work.  For Renato Costrini, his “chosen city” was Paris, the place where he was able to strengthen and fortify those yearnings and dissatisfactions  which enable us to truly see, through artistic sensitivity, through educational weathering and psychological insights, the personal journey we must make to arrive at an identification of our true self.

 In Paris, Costrini observed closely the classic works of art on display in the Louvre and embarked on his very personal study of the history of art, something we must all do if we want to build up and develop our historical consciousness of art.

 However, at the Louvre, Costrini also came into contact with “les copistes”.  These were either students of the Academy or senior artists who had the permission of the Management of the museum to set up their easels and paints and to copy the classics “from life”.

 One could expect some neo avant-garde elements to creep into their works.  By definition, the term “copied” suggests a certain degree of interpretation of the pictures on display and a reflection of these images in a kaleidoscope of transient mirrors.  Instead, Costrini was impressed by the humility of these artists and their desire to recapture precisely the original images.  This is the “real school” of painting, the school of discipline, as it was once practised at the Academy.  It is still practised today in some institutions, where lessons on the nude or on the art of copying are conducted in “still life”.  So, Costrini’s art lives somewhere between the artistic stirrings of Paris and the hidden humility of  “le copiste”.

 Ever since primary school, teachers and friends have encouraged him to develop his artistic talent.  His art teacher was particularly supportive, encouraging him to take part in a series of exhibitions and competitions such as the Veritas.  Over the years, he studied the works of the Italian Macchiaioli painters and the French Impressionists, so bringing together two forms of expression, the lingering effect of the “dapple” of colour and the feeling of expansion which exists in an “impression”.

 At university, Costrini studied Biological Sciences and as a result found a place for himself in that rather unique world where business and scientific research come together in a creative partnership. We can see for ourselves a link, a close association between having a meaningful job and making one’s name in a managerial environment.  It reminds us of the “old Olivetti school” during the time of Volponi and Fortini.  These are impressive names which stand out in the culture of the twentieth century.  They left their imprint on a concept of “company sensitivity” which became a “leading school of thought” of the time.

Costrini participated in exhibitions throughout the 1970’s and 1980’s.  This gave him an opportunity to put his studies into practice and to test out his artistic concepts.  He experimented with numerous techniques from oils to water-colours, from engravings to pastels and plaster figures.

 This brings us up to 1997 and a private publication entitled, “Stelle con le radici”, or as we would say in English, “ Even stars have roots”.  This is a collection of writings which range from pithy sayings expressing universal truths, to short stories, poetry and fables.  And it is in these written works that Costrini achieves his all important definition of his art.

 In 1982 and 1985, he took part in exhibitions and competitions in Rome, such as the Premio Clelio Darida which was held by the Salottino di Roma, a cultural association of the city.  Then in 1986 he participated in an exhibition entitled “Medicina ed Arte” at La Maddalena in Sardinia, and in the Premio Tifeo exhibition in Ischia.  For that event, Costrini wrote an extremely helpful handbook in which he charts his personal voyage of discovery.  Costrini states that “Nature is represented in her multiplicity of forms by continuously adapting the mode of expression to the subject portrayed. Man does not fight against the solemnity of nature, but rather, he abandons himself to it.  By embracing nature in this way, he is able to see into the heart of the very earth that one day will welcome him to her breast.  Man does not resist; he accepts with serenity the inevitability of destiny.  He savours moments of happiness and the beauty of everyday life to the full because this is absolutely fundamental to learning and understanding how to reap the fruits of the earth.  It is useless to resist or to try to understand all the secrets that surround us.  We are a part of nature and even if at times she shrouds herself in mystery, we should comply with her wishes.  Only in this way can we truly appreciate the wonders of a sunset or a bird’s song.  Man is an integral part of nature and these delights are his to enjoy if he so wishes.”

 Costrini defines the works he produced between 1980 and 1985, in particular his landscapes with the ever-present farmhouses, as follows:  “The houses symbolise the charm and tranquillity which emanates from within where the simple, ordinary tasks of everyday life are being performed with an unshakeable belief in the certainty of a tomorrow.”

 Of the works produced between 1986 and 1990 he writes that, “The colours have become more vivid, nature is more alive than ever and there is a continuous experimentation with new forms of expression.”  Writing about the principal theme of his work, the landscapes, Costrini drew particular attention to those produced between 1991 and 1995, saying of them that  “They appear as mountain landscapes where silence encircles the valley and the farmhouses.  The light strikes against the houses of the village and we only have to open the window to let it in.”

 So Costrini arrives at a use of colour which he defines as follows,  “The brightness of the colours and their intensity give us images which pulsate with life.  The fresh breeze of spring caresses a field of poppies and the waves of the sea.  It carries the scent of the bougainvillaea.  The music of the strolling player fills the silence which hangs over the fisherman intent on putting his net in order and the horses waiting for the new day.  The watchtower is witness to the sun which rises and sets uniting the woods and the sea, the fishes and the birds, the past and the future of man, which find comfort in his shadow.  A moment of reflection on the sudden, unpredictable changes in nature returns to us amidst the farmhouses.”

 Costrini’s sculptures are further, distinctive examples of his work.  Together with the oils, the tempera paintings and the water-colours, the etchings and the wood engravings, the sculptures “fill the gap” and give us a complete “picture”.  They give substance and form to those concepts previously expressed on paper and canvas.

Of these sculptures, the artist himself writes:  “Man is presented in his most natural state, in his most basic form, an integral part of everyday life.  At one and the same time he is both ordinary and mythical since he is the leading actor in his rise and fall.  We find it again in the peace and tranquillity experienced after the hunt, in the eagerness to share these moments of life with a companion, in the tragedy following the fall from Earthly Paradise.  Adam accepts his fate and Eve follows him, humbled by her guilt and her atonement for sin.  We find it again in Hercules who, in repose, reflects on the meaning of events whilst at the same time accepting them.  He does not rebel against his fate, neither is he the cause of it.  The Goddess of Fertility symbolises procreation. Neither is she the driving force of her fate.  Her exaggerated forms are built for motherhood, the role that nature has assigned her.  The myth of man intertwines with that of nature and everything is predestined, everything is foreseen,  for better and for worse.”

 However, there is an easily recognised uniformity of inspiration in the wide variety of techniques which the artist employs.  In Costrini’s works it is always the thrill of the journey which channels and sublimates the differing techniques and forms of expression.

 In this sense, we can see that there is a sort of dovetailing between his written works and his artistic works.  However, this does not mean that the artistic works are simply an illustration of the written works, but rather that the clear-cut, unambiguous independence of each mode of expression serves to strengthen and reinforce their distinctive characteristics and their particular source of inspiration, whether it be an object, nature or a moment in time.

 The written works already possess an illustrative force all of their own.  With a simple piece of writing or with a rational and precise argument he “wanders” along new paths and stirs up the emotions for a picture, for the realism of nature, for an encounter with another person.  It is the theoretical instruction which compliments the ethical direction.  The study of forms and colours is comparable to the study of literary expression which, in turn, completes the “multiple parallelism” of these diverse artistic activities and this wide talent for expression.  It truly is a culturally stylish form of eclecticism, characteristic of that very particular culture which is at the heart of those artistic works of the first two decades of the twentieth century.

 There are many shades of white, just as there are many shades of yellow, and Costrini knows every component and every possible definition of the colour yellow.  In particular that golden yellow which revels in absolute chromatic contrast with the poppy reds, the bottle greens and the olive greys of the knotted tree trunks, the green bushes and the distant rows of tilled soil on the sloping hillsides and the flat plain.

 Costrini often paints from real life or from photos which he himself has taken of the countryside.  The composition of each work is in complete harmony with the true meaning he sees in each particular scene and is revealed through three bands of colour.  In the foreground we have the dazzling brightness of the yellow field.  This is followed by a band of darkest green, and finally we have the pale, celestial blue of the sky.  Held between the first two bands we have the white-washed plaster of a farmhouse nestling against the band of green, a green that has been wrought in all its many hues from pearl to grey and through to deep blue, dwarfing at midday, eventide and early morn the image in the background.  The picture evolves like a musical work through a first, a second and a third movement.

 Where the three bands of colour and the three movements of music fall into place is in the image of the farmhouse and the groups of houses which are seen from a hilltop, or as glimpsed by a bird in full flight as it glides down and takes in the whole landscape in just one glance.  Usually, these sweeping views are of the Chianti countryside in the Orcia valley around Montepulciano, and significantly they belong to Costrini’s most recent works, those done in 2000 and 2001.

 The density of the yellows is accompanied by the thread-like unfurling of the grass amidst the brushwood and the poppies. The land is cultivated in elegant, geometric shapes while the verticality of the pines punctuates the rolling landscape and the winding trails of white earth are the sinuous, sensual curves of the anatomy of nature.

 From these images there emerges a feeling of total absorption.  These houses represent a kind of human reconciliation with self, an arrival at silence, found at last.

 In his work, Costrini visualises and paints the pacification of frenzy, of noise, of damnation.  Salvation comes through reconciliation, through the decanting of disenchantment to an assertion of serenity, a slowing of pace, a steadying of breath.  It is an unknowing affirmation of the familiar setting, an evocation not of rural society but of the psychology of the familiar, an internalisation of the familiar place which confirms the sense of a solitude that is warm and cosy as opposed to a solitude that is cold and chilling.  But can we really learn to know ourselves?  Is it something we can do in “twos and threes”?  Or do we have to confront our entire family of “ghosts”, our nightmares, our fears, our yearnings and our needs?  What kind of cure will heal our feeling of emptiness, our feeling of inadequacy, our sense of a cold and chilling solitude?

 Costrini offers us a wholesome vision, a naturalistic and humanistic vision of the Tuscan countryside, one of the most evocative landscapes in Italy, with its proud, understated nobility, preserved especially for us.  The land around Siena, the charm and elegance of the rolling hills of the Orcia valley, the clustering villages of Chianti become tripartite images of a unique Nature and a multiplicity of feelings.

 In an oil painting of 1991 entitled “Ragazza con cerchio”, or “Girl with a hoop”, Renato Costrini shows us a young girl who is playing with a hoop, chasing after it along a white lane when suddenly, she stops.

 We see her as she steadies her hat with one hand, maybe a slight breeze has blown up, and with her other hand she clutches the hoop to her side.  She has stopped to look at the view and in so doing appears as the epitome of a true Costrini picture: the yellow field, the isolated farmhouse, a few Tuscan pines along the roadside, the hills beyond and the sky above.  There is the sun or, better to say, there is the light of the sun.  It is a picture which is full of meaning, a synthesis of all Costrini’s works, that running and stopping in which we are all inextricably involved.

 In his view, the landscape is the recognition of self, inside the maternal and paternal image of the farmhouse. It is the seeing of oneself in the true brightness of the full light of day which revels in the simplicity of the child’s frock and the whiteness of her hat, so “country-like”, so genteel and slightly old-fashioned but yet, so tomboyish.

 The sun is to our right as we look at the picture.  On the path there is a strip of grey which accentuates the little girl’s shadow, the ever-present shadow behind a child, a young girl, a person.  It makes us think of “Puberty” by Munch and one also thinks of the little girl with a hoop in the famous, metaphysical picture by the ingenious De Chirico, “Melancholy and mystery of a street”. Here, there is the shadow both in the foreground and in the background which is lengthened by the foreshortening of the piazza, creating a feeling of the monumental ominousness of the unknown.  Let us read again what Calvesi wrote about this important picture of De Chirico: “The use of light conveys a feeling of sharpness to the space whilst crystallising both a sense of foreboding and a sense of the absurd.  We have a heightened perception of the darkness rather than the shadow.  In “Melancholy and mystery of a street”, the silhouette of the child who is running along, pursuing the hoop, presents an image of blossoming life swallowed up in a dizzying and overwhelming chasm which is projected from the foreground towards a narrow opening on the distant horizon.  At the end of the path of light which she is crossing there is cast the shadow of a figure, as if  she is ensnared.  Maybe it is a statue, but it is this sense of menace which is the real principal character of the work.  Munch touches on the same theme in “Puberty”, where an evil omen of a threatening future can be seen in the shadow of the adolescent projected against the wall.  A sense of the menacing anguish of the unknown, which is not merely a feature of dreams, hangs over everything and everyone.  It is the prospect of a future that leads nowhere, oppressive spaces of shadow which resemble blankets of black and skies of green, emerald and gloomy, charged with a profound and enigmatic sadness since the colour green, as the Symbolists were already aware, has a calming effect.”  (M. Calvesi, La metafisica schiarita, Milan, 1982, page 227.)

 “Unchartered waters” are seen as a great unknown.  The “unknown” that we are all searching for is a way in which we can satisfy our most heartfelt yearnings.  The blatant sunlight and the chromatic brightness of Costrini’s images invite us to reflect on the true meaning of silence, silence as a place of waiting, as a suspension in time.  We must pause, stop ourselves, suspend ourselves in time.  The “silent place” is a halt in the race.  This uninhibited enjoyment of life is part of the robust and jubilant rhythm of the hoop that traces the path of the genuine journey of initiation, the true “rite of passage”.