When observing a painting by Pasquini, the one thing among the numerous aesthetic sensations aroused that prevails for me is the impression that I can hear breathing. The rasping telluric breath of his hilly landscapes. The deep blowing of the wind that moves the sea, pushing the waves over vast expanses. The warm, quiet breath of the houses squashed next to each other like sheep in a flock at night. The rustling sighs of flowers just cut, that carry among their ragged corollas the air of the bush or meadow they come from. What is missing is the breath of a living creature, a human or an animal, in a world made for expectancy or for absence that does not seem to need any pulsing life on the surface, but which to the contrary, draws its special form of organic existence from sources of latent energy.

I wonder if Pasquini shares my thoughts in this regard? Nevertheless they are inspired by his special, mellow, ethereal, leavening and steaming paintings, illuminated by an internal light that gilds the hillsides, making the meadows filled with spring flowers throb with a violet hue, bursting open the transparencies of a sea transformed into a deep-toned crystal. And it is not from the windows of the houses in the pretty towns, like the ones perched between the vales and hills of the countryside of central Italy and especially Tuscany, that the light is propagated – windows which are instead motes, commas and slits filled with dense shadows – but rather, it is the muted walls and pinkish roofs that emanate a bright light that is perhaps a reflection captured by the sun of an invisible dusk, or perhaps an inner intimate and secret wealth, so filled with joy that it ignites the colours like love when it warms the cheeks of those who experience its initial jolts.

The balance of the lines, volumes, colours, light and shadow that from canvas to canvas characterise Pasquini’s paintings, is the hallmark of an affirmed maestro, to whom a long and fruitful career has assured well-deserved fame in prestigious places. His presence in the Sala delle Colonne at Pontassieve confirms the high quality of the exhibitive policy adopted so far by this City Council, and is a good omen and promise of equally valuable initiatives in the future


From the monograph “SILENCES OF NATURE” produced on occasion of the exhibition in the Sala delle Colonne Municipality of Pontassieve – (Florence).
December 2009 – January 2010.

In the beginning there is the canvas. High, short, wide, long, small, large, very large. And on the canvas, a wash of white tempera, applied in a thick, undulating manner with a large round brush that prepares a candid, vibrating substrate. And then the colours, taken from a palette-table (as it is supported by a twisted olive trunk in the form of “legs”, like Ulysses’ bed): a palette sumptuously encrusted after forty years’ service, with constantly growing lumpy little mounds of paint. The highest ones are yellow and white, the solar signs of Luciano Pasquini’s paintings, imbued with light.

The colours are applied on the canvas starting from top to bottom, so that the shape is created via a progressive and guided descent of substantial brush strokes, without a drawing; that is, with just the drawing in the painter’s head, familiar ever since his emergence with a range of subjects he recognises himself in and via which he is recognised: floral compositions, summer landscapes, winter landscapes, densely populated villages, seascapes. The brushstrokes are what build, with skilful allusions to the structures and surfaces, the identity of the individual shapes. In the bunches of flowers – often carefully composed and arranged obliquely – the myriads of petals forming the cupolas of the hydrangeas become rounded and concave. They suggest the open, shadowless corollas of the poppies in blazing, frayed red. They evoke the spiky blue artichoke flowers like the bristles of a brush, with an effectiveness and rapidity that the complicated botanic description (read it to believe it) could never achieve. The daisies create vigorous radial patterns.

And in the landscapes, on top of a grainy texture that emerges from the leanest of strokes – the watermark of the vitality that perpetually moves the sea and shakes the earth – strokes of the brush and swipes of the spatula that build thicknesses and textures: the stratified plastering of the houses, the hard tiles of the red roofs, the regular furrows in the fields, the smooth expanses of snow, the slopes of the cliffs sliding down into the sea, the floral explosions of the yellow and purple hedgerows in the summer season. Where required, a slightly abrasive stroke over a background of already dried colour, using a process reminiscent of the ancient technique of “sgraffito” on the wall, allows the texture of the most minute underlying white reliefs to emerge. And then the sky takes on an irregular haze of water vapour pending densification, and the sea ripples with a subtlety of small, quivering yet innocuous waves.

I wrote years ago that to look at Pasquini’s paintings, “among the numerous aesthetic sensations, what prevails for me is the impression of hearing the sound of breathing. The hoarse telluric breath of his hilly landscapes. The deep blowing of the wind that moves the sea, pushing the waves over vast expanses. The hot, quiet breath of the houses squeezed together like a flock of sheep at night. The rustling sighs of the freshly cut flowers that carry with their jagged corollas the air of the bushes and meadows they come from. What’s missing however, is the breath of a living creature, be it man or beast, in a world made up of expectation or absence which does not seem to need a pulsing life on the surface and instead draws its special form of organic existence from latent sources of energy”.

Indeed, in these visions, carefully purified of any trace of humanity – except that which can be deduced from the presence of the homes built and lived in, the neatly cultivated fields – the protagonist is a benevolent daytime environment that never inflicts storms, where it never gets dark, where the snow that fell silently spreads protectively like thick icing over the valleys and highlands. Rarely does the lighting in these paintings come from a visible source, rather, it is usually soft and diffused, as though inside and mixed with the paint itself, so that at the time I defined it as “an inner light that gilds the hillsides, making the meadows filled with flowers in spring palpitate with purple reflections, opening the transparencies of a sea transfigured into dark crystal. And in the houses of the steep, pleasant villages, such as those found among the hills and dales of the countryside in central Italy, and especially in Tuscany, the light is not propagated by the windows – which look like notes or commas or louvers where sharp, dark shadows thicken – but instead it comes from the nuanced colours of the walls and the reddish roofs that emanate a brightness which is perhaps a reflection caught from the sun of an invisible sunset or maybe just an intimate, secret richness of their own”.

The recurrence of formal subjects and solutions in Pasquini’s prolific paintings transmits the image of an artist true to his own expressive line, the changes of which – in size, density, chromatic tones – can only be perceived in the long and very long-term: he is refractory to experimentation as an end in itself, too in love with “his” subjects to ever get tired of them, compensated by the imperceptibly yet constantly introduced variants that manage to make every painting look different from the others.

Pasquini’s loyalty to his own creative style has the long, slow rhythms of a rural, farming background, still today a topical element and constitutive value of his and his family’s life decisions, perched as they are on a hillock at Rignano sull’Arno in a landscape of astounding beauty, amidst well-tended olive groves, dark, towering cypress trees, patches of broom, undulating clumps of purple irises, with good olive oil, genuine wine, cherries saved from the voracious beaks of the blackbirds: seasonal commuters between the deep heart of the Florentine countryside and the Adriatic coastline beneath Mount Conero.

And in the midst of this continuation of life, something that has been of fundamental importance – as explained by Pasquini himself and also found in his biographies – is the albeit brief period he spent at the San Gersolè primary school, from first to third grade with teacher, Maria Maltoni. His admiration for the accurately delineated and patiently coloured naturalistic pencil drawings of the fifth- and sixth-grade students never abandoned Pasquini: rather, it worked secretly yet tenaciously inside him, until bursting out into an authentic adult talent as a painter, an exuberant and natural talent just like the flowers, radiating the energetic, vibrant colours that he started to portray, all linking up to the common denominator of that early botanical imprinting. You could call him an unconsciously trained, self-taught artist. Still standing out today on his cluttered table (nevertheless under his control thanks to his commendable habit of documenting and archiving everything) almost like an object of veneration, is a beautiful edition of “The diaries of San Gersolè” published in 1949 in Florence by Il Libro – and also from ten years earlier, the better-known “San Gersolè Notebooks” with a preface by Italo Calvino – where the word and the image have nature and country life as their protagonists, with their measured spaces and archaic rituals reaching the threshold of modernity.

And Pasquini himself is one of those neat, plump children in the photo on the first and last parts of the cover of the catalogue of the exhibition “The Teacher and Life – Maria Maltoni and the School of San Gersolè”, that the Municipality of Impruneta organised at the Ospedale degli Innocenti of Florence in 2007.

It is this invisible yet unshakeable and earthy depth that gives Pasquini’s paintings their genuine long-term vocation in the pleasure and affection of those who, for any reason whatsoever, place them or find them under their gaze. Because if we were to dig in the invisible layers of the past and present of the artist we would discover the teacher, Maltoni, the older children with their beautiful drawings, the builders of the houses with the red sloping roofs, the labourers in the fields who have ploughed and sown, leaving regular tracks on the sun-blessed hillsides; there would be the olive trees and cypresses, the broom and the undertow, the flavours of the olive oil, the wine, the cherries in spring. This true, solid world, antique and modern at the same time, lies lurking in every one of Pasquini’s paintings, like a root system in the ground that we can’t see but which allows the tree to grow, and the soil itself, bridled and restrained, to resist without crumbling under the first rainfall. If we own a painting by Pasquini we own a fragment of Tuscany, a sliver of Italy: Italy at its best, in which man has known how to shape the beautiful nature of the places with his passionate and respectful work.


From the monograph “BUILDING WITH COLOUR” produced on occasion of the exhibition in the Certosa of Pontignano – (Siena).

May 2016 – October 2017.


[…] Pasquini’s painting needs no introduction since his message is crystal clear: a world of childhood memories, of pure naturalistic mimesis based on his contemplative, almost chaste sensitivity in rejecting change which basks in its own happiness, semantic linearity and objective implications. Above all the landscapes and flowers, which are treated with delicate graphic elegance and remarkable colouristic grace […]


From the monthly art information magazine “QUESTARTE” no. 5, May 1979


[…] Pasquini is a well known painter and the University of Camerino has recently requested a retrospective anthology of his work which is very unusual for an artist still in his early fifties. This year his paintings have been displayed in the important showcase of the Arte Fiera of Bologna. He is nevertheless one of those names that appears regularly in the daily news (which is rather lacking in information about the arts). Pasquini identifies so intensely with his environment and his countryside that he is perfectly at ease painting meadow flowers or the foliage of olive trees. Sometimes his strings become melancholy when he portrays a deserted beach with autumn drawing to a close. These paintings with their bushes, sand hills and sea seem to be a nostalgic afterthought of the seasons spent in delicate intimacy by a romantic poet. One could say that the figurative clarity of his themes and his respect for good painting rules make Pasquini a traditional painter. However, it is precisely his loyalty to painting that allows us to accept his contribution to the art of our times. One always senses a deep desire to re-establish the basic principles of painting. […]


From the introduction in the catalogue of the one-man show at St. Maria Gualtieri, Pavia organised by A.N.P.O. .
Pavia – 1996


In his intellectual autobiography, The world as I see it, Albert Einstein remarks with great perspicacity just how great the debt is that every human being has towards the others with whom he/she has lived and lives. To quote the great physicist, “we live in houses that others have built, we eat food that others have produced, we think and say complex things thanks to a language that others have spoken and developed over the centuries, and we have learned and continue to learn from others.
[…] In 1963, a year before the death of Maria Maltoni, Italo Calvino wrote in the preface of a collection of writings and drawings by the children of San Gersolè published by Einaudi that: “The most amazing talent of the scholars of San Gersolè appears to me to be their precision.
[…] The capital sin of our childhood seems to have been that of always moving within the vague, the indefinite. But here the lesson comes from two teachers: Maria Maltoni and life
[…] Every image is seen and drawn with the same precision and with the same sense of the implicit importance of each and every thing”.
To my mind the originality and artistic verve of the mature painter are not diminished if we ask ourselves how much he owes to the exact and essential figurations that Maria Maltoni knew how to encourage her students to produce in drawing and colouring. Certainly, in the drawings of San Gersolè, we can see minute things, insects and realities belonging to a small world. Pasquini frees himself from this and lifts us up onto much wider horizons. The research and evocation of these horizons in the sea, the springtime, and the snow-cloaked countryside are the acquisition of a mature artist. However, in the portrayal of his maturity as an artist he still encloses the crisp outlines and precise details so dear to San Gersolè and, as also pointed out by others, he uses them as a source of poetry.”


From the monograph “ITINERARIES (ALSO) SENTIMENTAL ” Produced on occasion of the exhibition at the National Museum of Palazzo Venezia
Roma – January 2009

This is another new milestone for all those who love Luciano Pasquini’s artwork. His art travels along its light-filled journey, continuing to flourish while the acclaim and admiration surrounding him grows. All confirmed by the proposals of his most recent one-man shows, like the one in Palazzo Venezia in Rome in 2009, and those in Pontassieve, Matera, Palermo, the State Archives of Milan, and his by-now traditional appointments in Numana. He is collectively acclaimed and the admiration for his work is demonstrated in the detailed and penetrating critical analysis of the dignitaries who present his exhibitions, as well as in the precious monographs accompanying his shows.
And yet again, as I have had the privilege to comment in the past, the debt of a remote seed continues to mark the fascinating artistic experience of Luciano Pasquini. His consolidated artistic genius does not stem from a vacuum. Pasquini is not one of those who, having reached the halls of fame, strive to be accredited as original and pretend to be children of themselves, while instead, as the great Wolfgang Goethe stated, they are often just “hopeful fools”. In his intellectual autobiography, Il mondo come io lo vedo (The world as I see it), Albert Einstein quite rightly reminds us of the great the debt that every human being, also the scientist, has towards the others with whom he/she has lived and lives, pointing out how “we live in houses that others have built, eat food that others have produced, think and say complex things thanks to a language that others have spoken and developed over the centuries, and have learned and continue to learn from others”. We could add here that our imagination is also made of images that others have taught us to capture from the exterminated mass of what is visible.
The teachers of the kindergartens and primary schools who are privileged to observe sudden expansions and stunning growth, at times even authentic explosions of experience, knowledge and skills that every child is capable of, are well aware that what we can teach inside the classroom is minimal, a tiny subassembly of what is called an immense ‘great school of the world’ by Gianni Rodari, who I will mention further on. Preschool teachers know this and at times also an expert of value like a craftsman, artist or high-school teacher will know how to make adolescents and young people grow from apprenticeship towards art and knowledge (and it is not by chance then, when they know how to do this, that we call them “teachers”).
So therefore the work of preschool teachers is not worth much? Could we do without them as certain ministers of finance sometimes suggest here and there around the world, especially in Italy? Definitely not. The things of the world, and also the books, and at times even the words of others do not speak by themselves, they only speak if we know how to observe and listen to them. But we can only learn how to observe, listen, and understand things, books, and words if we have a spark of interest in them. If we think about this, we can begin to understand just what these teachers give us: sparks of interest, lights that show us possible pathways in the vast world. Probably not much more, or perhaps only a tiny bit more, but certainly nothing less than this.
The pathway is ours, of each of us, but our glance would be lost and vanish in the opaque if at such an early age the light had not been turned on by some teacher in our past, whose name is forgotten. Nevertheless, their work still continues.
The name of Maria Maltoni has not fallen into oblivion. Not a rare event. Since the mid twentieth century, the course, at times tortuous, of the Italian school has found and still finds high reference points on which to base itself: Mario Lodi in Vho di Piadena, Leonardo Sciascia in “Regalpetra” (Racalmuto), Don Lorenzo Milani in Calenzano and Barbiana, Don Roberto Sardelli in Acquedotto Felice, Rome, Loris Malaguzzi in Reggio Emilia, Albino Bernardini in Sardinia and Pietralata, Tullio Sirchia in Trentapiedi, the “street teachers” of Naples, and amongst them, Marco Rossi Doria who has now been summoned to the top levels of the school government. Maria Maltoni is one of the highest names on this list of worthy personages.
Interestingly, a clever editor who was very involved in real school life, Armando Armando, once remarked that there are not only the “heroes”, rather, there are hundreds and thousands of schoolteachers who thanks to their teaching methods are capable of forgotten acts of heroism and are just as deserving as the above-mentioned famous names. Too true. The great merit of the names we mention is that of having recounted and documented their own and their students’ journeys. Stories and documents give us the chance to glimpse the secrets of the art of these teachers, their shared and impassioned ability to observe and listen to their students, their real lives, their experiences and their skills. As Gianni Rodari wrote in his Grammatica della fantasia (The Grammar of Fantasy), it is in their students that the teachers have known how to ignite and nurture this same capacity to observe the environments and worlds of their concrete existence, helping them to be aware of and attribute relevance to the results of their observations, to express themselves freely with commitment and care, drawing out of each one the works that are the fruit of this refined expressive capacity, “not so that they can all become artists, but so that nobody will become a slave”.
For some time now these collections of diaries, splendid chronicles and extraordinary drawings of the students have been on display in Impruneta, testifying to the educational activities of Maria Maltoni at the San Gersolè school during the nineteen-twenties, thirties, forties and fifties. If we go and visit, we can admire the results of this teacher’s passion and care in fostering the intellectual, human, and also expressive development of all those lucky enough to be her students. And for years Luciano Pasquini was one of these.
The art critics who on numerous occasions have been attracted by the pictorial works of Luciano Pasquini have highlighted what has been coined “the lyricism of the colours”. It is probably legitimate to add however, that the greater the affectionate recognition and evocation of the details and precise outlines, the more this lyricism emerges: the light and dark shades of purple of the snapdragons amidst the irises, the yellow blooms of laburnum branches amongst the “dahlias of a thousand colours”, the small clusters of pointed green cypress trees crowning the “heart of Tuscany”, the frothy white waters along the seashore, the lines of horizon that detach and qualify the varying colours of the coastal, agricultural and human landscapes.
In 1963, in the preface of Quaderni di San Gersolè, the collection of writings and drawings of the students of Maria Maltoni, Italo Calvino wrote that: “The most amazing talent of the scholars of San Gersolè appears to me to be their precision. (…) . The capital sin of our childhood seems to have been that of always moving within the vague, the indefinite. But here the lesson comes from two teachers: Maria Maltoni and life. (…) Every image is seen and drawn with the same precision and with the same sense of the implicit importance given to each object”.
The originality and artistic verve of Luciano Pasquini are not diminished if we ask ourselves how much he owes to the exact and essential figurations that Maria Maltoni knew how to encourage her students to produce in their drawing and colouring. Certainly, in the drawings of San Gersolè, we can see minute things, insects and realities belonging to a small world. Pasquini frees himself from this and hovers, lifting us up onto much wider horizons. The research and evocation of these horizons in the sea, the springtime, and the snow-cloaked countryside represent the acquisition of a mature artist. However, in the portrayal of his maturity as an artist he still encloses the sharp outlines and precise details so dear to San Gersolè and, as also pointed out by others, he uses them as a source of poetry.


Introduction to the monograph “From shadowy corners to painted horizons”
Rome, dicember 2012


[…] Without being contaminated by either schools or trends, Luciano Pasquini is a spontaneous and sincere artist who knows how to walk down a straight pathway with tenacity, passion and intelligence. However, his fresh spontaneity is not the result of mere improvisation, but rather, the end product of research that becomes deeper and increasingly more meticulous as his artistic maturity grows […]”


From the catalogue of the one-man show at the “IL CASTELLO” Gallery
Pontassieve (Florence) – 1974


(…) Whoever observes these paintings with due attention immediately becomes aware of an authentic voice that echoes from valley to valley: in the silent, at times even excessively timid life – this is the voice of Pasquini, an artist who manages to reawaken ancient pathways, essences that we believed lost in our great treasure-chest of memories, a distinct feeling of bliss that is certainly strange in the scorching anxiety and growing frenzy of today’s world.
To be able to take shelter in places surrounded by harmony and silence, in which you can imagine the simple lives spent between the fields and the sea, becomes a necessary refuge when the reality beyond the window takes the shape of buildings that shut out the sky with their tiled roofs, always too high to allow you to see the dawn breaking or the final rays of sun at the end of the day. The mind travels afar: sweeping from the hills of Villamagna, suspended over the River Arno and Florence, to beyond the Umbria of Saint Francis, until reaching the Riviera of Le Marche, so dear to Pasquini. In this poetic crossing, sleepy cypress trees accompany us with expanses of flowering broom and lavender in orderly rows, dotted about with blossoming almond trees.

(…) To feel gratitude for someone able to reawaken the best that is inside us with such evocative poetry, is equivalent to highlighting the most obvious meaning of a kind of painting that has always shunned rhetorical exaltations, touching with its sincerity the hearts of who knows how many souls still able to feel wonder at the sight of a butterfly flittering between the sky and the trees.


From the monograph “NATURE AS A SOURCE OF POETRY” produced on occasion
of the exhibition at the Rocca Paolina of Perugia.
Perugia – May/June 2007

In the silence of this countryside, concealed by the first hills around Florence, misdeeds and illusions of certain contemporary art melt like hailstones brought by a late summer storm. Here, everything that is beautiful returns to parade itself again in its secular, mysterious entirety against a background of fields, woods and farmhouses, witnesses of ancient tales. As ancient as mankind.

It’s no wonder then, that the sensitive soul of an inspired painter, such as Luciano Pasquini, is nourished by rural and marine visions, depending on the seasons, for achieving the noblest and at the same time most secret desires housed in his heart: after all, painting is just a way of telling about yourself or describing something.

Pasquini does this by chasing after the fascination of nature that ignites thrills and palpitations, (….) There are no landscapes, no bunches of flowers painted by Pasquini, that do not recount something about his personal life, in an airtight allegory – ignored by most of us – filled with symbolic chromatics, rarefied shadows, and opalescent glows of light.  (…)


From the monograph“ITINERARIES (ALSO) SENTIMENTAL” National Museum of Palazzo Venezia
Rome – January 2009

“Thirty-five years: that’s how much time has passed since his first exhibition, accompanied by the words of Almina Dovati Fusi, at the Il Castello Art Gallery of Pontassieve.
[…] In the brief span of two weeks, Luciano Pasquini appeared first before God to join in holy wedlock with his dear wife, and then before mankind with his well-kept secret, his paintings.
Flowers and landscapes perpetuated on canvases which reminded – at that time just as today – of the school of San Gersolè. At that time unconsciously, today no longer so.
His works were immediately appreciated. Thus it was that with great courage he embarked on a career that was soon acclaimed by critics and public alike. A journey studded with successes everywhere he went.
[…] A public space is waiting for him, the Sala delle Colonne, which an enlightened counsellor, Alessandro Sarti, has for some time been ennobling with a series of significant anthological exhibitions, such as and above all, those dedicated to Guttuso and Ligabue.
But this does not intimidate Pasquini: on the contrary, his works still bestow on us the thrill of authentic poetry. And of beautiful painting.
He is perhaps unaware – and this is a not a bad thing, considering his invincible shyness and unequalled humility – that an exceptional exhibition on Beato Angelico will immediately follow his own, and in the same spaces where we can now admire his silences of nature we will soon be able to observe other silences and other enchantments: those of the Franciscan friar.
These are the rare miracles that make our uncertain existence worth living.”


From the monograph “SILENCES OF NATURE” produced on occasion of the exhibition in the Sala delle Colonne Municipality of Pontassieve
Pontassieve (Florence) – December 2009/January 2010


[…] Even though we are all now accustomed to strongly flavoured dishes and are no longer able to enjoy the simple things in life, if we stand in front of one of Luciano Pasquini’s paintings with the same attitude he had when he first stood in front of the bare canvas before starting to paint, little by little his in-depth search for colour and his clean, elegant composition of shapes, all start to come to life and transmit, albeit ever so faintly, the first glimpses of poetry. And it’s really quite unusual to find someone as honest and limpid as he is in today’s world of charlatans, crooks, and pretentious incompetents. […]”


From the catalogue of the one-man show at the “IL CASTELLO” gallery
Pontassieve (Florence) – 1975


Nature and her colours have always been an infinite source of inspiration for numerous artists, marking their pathways in an unmistakable manner.
Likewise for Luciano Pasquini, nature is the most typical connotation of his paintings, however he manages to be a sensitive and refined narrator of the external world that surrounds him, with the gift of translating the emotions he experiences into works of uncommon beauty, traced by an expert hand with truly superb artistic components.
In a catalogue dedicated to a splendid exhibition, Fabio Migliorati comments that “Luciano Pasquini’s art is the daughter of the 20th century”. This definition seems to hit the nail right on the head: this Florentine artist enriches his art with visions of landscapes, images, atmospheres, and nostalgic sensations that have so successfully characterised some of the greatest artists from a century that was immensely significant in Italy and the rest of Europe as well.
(…) The sunny patchworks of the meadows, the magnificent flowering expanses, and the evocative rooftops all so harmoniously inserted into the context of the landscape, speak of the majestic and admirable qualities of this artist who is capable of arousing authentic vibrations in the onlooker by transmitting contemplative sensations that animate his art in a transparent and impeccable manner.
The exhibition in Palazzo Venezia, one of the most prestigious monuments in Italy, is also a demonstration of the significant and well-deserved acclaim by a public institution for this maestro who knows how to produce splendid works of authentic value in today’s contemporary art scene.


From the monograph “ITINERARIES (ALSO) SENTIMENTAL” produced on occasion of the exhibition at National Museum of Palazzo Venezia
Rome – January 2009

Pasquini is a refined narrator of nature and the scenes in a landscape that his eyes know how to capture in the finest detail, but also with intense emotional participation; he is not therefore an artist who merely transfers what his eye admires onto canvas, rather, he is an extraordinary interpreter, capable of creating with extremely elegant chromatic variations, the emotions endowed by a palely veiled dawn or a red sunset caressing the houses, the gentle undulating slope of the Tuscan countryside, or the marvellous tongues of sea that lap against the Riviera del Conero.
(…)The exhibition in Palazzo Venezia, one of the most prestigious monuments in Italy, is also a demonstration of the significant and well-deserved acclaim by a public institution for this maestro who knows how to produce splendid works of authentic value in today’s contemporary art scene.
After the important exhibition in Palazzo Venezia in Rome, Luciano’s artistic itinerary is now taking another suggestive step forward with the collection in Milan, housed in the halls of such a prestigious public institution as Palazzo Senato, home of the State Archives. This is yet another well-deserved recognition of the artwork of this Tuscan maestro.


From the monograph “LIGHT-HEARTED GLANCES” Palazzo del Senato
Milan – December 2010


[…] Luciano Pasquini prefers memory landscapes. Yet he seems to paint en plein air, while the colours and light take on different aspects as the day progresses. A very special, languid green he uses is reproduced amidst the country homes in many of his paintings, while in the background the hills encircle a hypothetical Florence. This is an imaginative Eden that exists in the mutating shades of greens, reds and yellows. His colours have their own chromatic meaning and the tones, especially in his bunches of flowers, are quite marked, so that at times one has the impression that his eyes have been overwhelmed by inner emotion.
The season he prefers and often depicts in his paintings is autumn, when the grass in the meadows changes colour and the surrounding scenery seems to be tinged with red, purple and gold, while between the houses, the cypress trees in their pyramidal dress still retain the colours of the previous season. […]


From the monograph “INSIDE THE LANDSCAPE” Edition: University of Camerino, on occasion of the exhibition at Palazzo Arcivescovile
Camerino – May 1995


[…] Pasquini’s compositions are always dynamic, plural, bound together with essential yet supremely simple ribbings, capable of offering themselves to good sense, in an intense activity of signs and colours where the freedom to deposit and arrange the painting on the canvas is not merely a translation, but rather, an authentic transliteration of a moment’s emotion, with an inner resonance triggered by the changes and movements of the atmosphere, the interplay of light, the colour of the air. Reconciled with the world, Pasquini paints from the heart what he experiences and sees, testifying to his intact and equal capacity to feel both wonder and passion, albeit when faced with the meridian glory of a landscape or when portraying – in the domestic intimacy of his studio – the vivid fragility of a bouquet of flowers. On attaining artistic maturity, Pasquini’s painting has become increasingly more lyrical, intense and consolidated within a memorial dimension, perhaps a symbolic inheritance of nature interpreted like a book in which to read about one’s own relationship with life and destiny; nature seen romantically through the eyes of Goethe, as a “living book”.


From the catalogue of the exhibition “DREAMED-OF BEAUTY” Galleria Lazzaro by Corsi
Milan – 2003


[…] Pasquini maintains intact that way of observing objects and recomposing them in loving fabrics, typical of those who are “unspoiled” by pedantic academicism or by certain intellectual pretensions that burden the pathways of art, in an attempt to make them increasingly more exclusive and ostentatious showcases for exhibiting intellectual congeries. Pasquini is far removed from all this. In my opinion this is where his prevalent value lies as this is how he manages to conserve a poetic pictorial freshness, increasingly harder to find in the various paintings of today’s age. He gather lovers of fairy tales, or perhaps even legends, around his episodes that still speak of homes once able to “exist” in an isolated fashion in the meadows and green pastures surrounding the villages and towns. An ecological myth which, like all myths, represents qualities yearned after by men or situations they cannot pursue, and in any case has remained in the literature of lost paradises. […]


From the monograph “PLACES, SHAPES AND COLOUR” Poesiarte
Florence – 1992


There are no humans in Luciano Pasquini’s paintings. Nature predominates unchallenged, albeit at times gathered in a vase of flowers or glimpsed from a distance around a hamlet of scattered houses, but always dominant and sovereign. Nevertheless, his art is not far removed from man or from his sensitivity. To the contrary, it is evident how Pasquini’s paintings spring from an extremely refined and delicate sentiment, so rarefied and modest that it generates images of incomparable suaveness and gentleness. Pasquini’s world is neither modern nor ancient.
Instead it seems to have been deposited on the canvas after quiet observation of the simplest daily activities, while it is obvious how this art has been structured and organised by an alert mind that creates the images according to spontaneous and at the same time rigorous criteria so that his enchanting landscapes are immediately recognisable thanks to their striking stylistic and expressive coherence. This is where we can see how much painstaking attention and how much good taste the artist puts into his work. His pictorial material is soft and sensitive, as though caressed by a breath of lyrical emotion, always contained within an atmosphere of discretion and beauty.
His works are sober, clear-cut and essential; he is an integral painter whose works are immediately imbued with his own poetic dimension. And his paintings form part of an authentic series, like so many chapters of a single book that run parallel to the book of nature although never slavishly repeating nature’s shapes. On the contrary, he reinterprets them integrally to offer us a composition of sheer peace and beauty in which to mirror ourselves while attempting to capture the essence of what the painter is telling us without complex speculation, but rather, as a sort of act of love for art itself.


From the monograph “ITINERARIES (ALSO) SENTIMENTAL” produced on occasion of the gallery at National Museum of Palazzo Venezia
Rome – January 2009


[…] In the wealth of Pasquini’s collection, despite working and living in two different habitats – one on the winding road of the hill leading up to Candeli in the outskirts of Firenze, the other in a village on the Conero Riviera in front of a rough sea – the artist has also told us about a third landscape of his soul, filled with country houses and cypress trees, although without the same confidence, and I might add, authority, of one who is expressing what he feels in front of the beaches, dunes, horizons, sand, and broom where he has spent so much of his time. And just imagine the novelty when a painter of sunny, Mediterranean scenes finds he can portray the purity and silence of snow-covered countryside with the same wonder and the same joyful glee of children waking to see everything outside the window covered in a white mantle. The painter’s desire at this exhibition at the Fair of Bologna is to meet all those who appreciate his work through lyrical visions of a different nature. […]


From the introduction in the catalogue: SEA, TOWNS, FLOWERS AND SNOW reflections of the soul in recent paintings by L. Pasquini in his one-man show at ARTE FIERA
BOLOGNA – 1999