An exclusive experience in the heart of Tuscany.
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.