Born in Rome, where studied painting at the
Illustrated books for the Editors Cappelli and
Has been working for many years as restorer of antique pictures and miniatures.
Performed personal exhibitions in Rome, Milan, Palermo, Paris, Gand, Granada and Berlin.
What is the secret of Rossana Feudo Pani's pictorial spell?
Wherein does the bewitching core of her works lie, which is so perfect and so, apparently, "not of this world"?
It must be stated from the outset, that Rossana Feudo Pani's beautiful and proud, self-enclosed tale has nothing to do with the revival of an outdated "anachronistic" trend.
Instead, it expresses at the highest level the will of a totally personal search, which is difficult to understand unless it is placed in a human context, at least in its outward appearance.
At her first important personal exhibition, we must talk about the uniqueness of her artistic sensitivity.
She has been working for many years on her own, away from the circles of contemporary art debate; faithful only to her inspiration.
She has followed other paths, which would not offend the purity of her painting; in some respects an "anima offesa" born of for natural vocation, she established a "noli me tangere" existence, which makes her an unusual case in recent Italian painting.
Her kind human figure doesn't seem to belong to our chaotic, rude, arrogant and aggressive time.
It is not uncommon to see the embodiment of a character from E.M. Forster's pages, or of some other protagonist of the Bloomsbury's group's pages.
From her background in restoration works, Rossana Feudo Pani has made use of this experience in her creative work, in the sense that she has acquired an attitude to a philology that respects the original data, with the conscious view that nothing is invented and everything can be reproduced, with an implacable eye that wants to submit everything to the reasons of a scrupulous way of feeling.
Her working method develops from the technique of restoration as well: rigorously tempera on panel, creating stippled effects, very thin colour lines, shaped as a texture, or in such a way as to re-weave something that is no more, but visible only at a close distance, through a magnifying glass, because only the naked eye is able to catch the polish, the limpidity, the smoothness of the design and of the colour.
This choice of technique, then, shows precisely the sentiment I mentioned before, which is detached from the present day objects, looking only for a personal beauty, a world system in itself, to which she, maker and tyrant of her creation, gives life.
Rightly moving from the assumption that so much aspiration needs to be protected, Rossana Feudo Pani has perfected a world of her own, not too open of Flemish accuracy, of Victorian of Bronzino's colours, of Venetians and Bohemian glass-like transparencies, that communicates only with those who can understand its innermost and most aristocratic nature, proud an intolerant.
But while saying this, the initial question remains unanswered: the secret of the pictorial spell, the essence of the charm of her inspiration and communicative skill...
Everything seems to lie in the mystery that such painting suggests: the mystery of beauty that appears a profaner of the present aesthetic models.
These models, in fact, do not tolerate any use of formal perfection, or a form of expression which deliberately refuses to face up to the present time and prefers to escape into the realm of the ideal.
Rossana Feudo Pani, in this scenario of ugliness elevated to aesthetic models, appears a heroine, invaded and pervaded by the voice of the sublime, with a slight, but clear decadent attitude, impassively committed to a destiny which she seems to have been called to: to paint as if time were eternal, a kind of painting characterised by a form of symbolism only superficially light and carefree, but actually aware of its power and of its potential to communicate with eternity.
The mystery of her works comes from the determination by which such an imagery, seemingly so far from our reality, finds its own unquestionable forcefulness at the level of self-contented beauty; it comes from the immediate comparison between what these works are and what there is around them, as if one would be able to enter, through them, a garden of Eden in which it is pleasant to free oneself entirely.