The year was 1975, and we were in the spring. Woodns taken an irrevocable decision: he declared to the world and he swore to himself that from that day he painted most of his works outside, outside his box-office, in the midst of people and nature. Bought a tripod of metal, folding and red, and with that accessory began a new adventure. Adventure that lasted more than thirty years, until the day of his death. He was so excited about something that even dedicated a poem, just at his easel. (Click here)

Thus, day after day, he began to paint outdoors. Not fearing the summer heat or extreme cold of winter. Especially loved to portray the old buildings of the city, the oldest ones. Churches, villages, in particular old courts, views where the weather was unrelenting past, where the color of the materials and the soft voices of the men had been softly preserved only in ruins, but he with his magic pencil the ridonava life, recreating the ancient light, sometimes inserting characters in keeping with the attitudes of the time. By staging the vicissitudes of those people, reproducing the feats obsolete, giving them new animation and movement. Thus restoring those spaces to its former glory: buildings and historical areas were sometimes earmarked for demolition to make way for the modern and new complexes. Cut out those corners and the hatch of his pencils immortalized them, keeping an indelible part of our historical memory, giving us little snippets of life lived and passed. Anchors that, along with other fragments, shape and value the important mosaic of our origins.

Did not disdain to be in the midst of nature. Indeed, he considered it a mother and an inexhaustible source of inspiration. I copied the moods and situations of fleeting beauty. Main dishes that only she knows how to serve. So arose emotional landscapes and completely heterogeneous. Portraits of lakes rippling beneath leaden skies, or the same bodies of water taken in the quiet with clear skies or on the point end of a sunset from bright colors, or even in the shy pink of dawn. City asleep under a blanket of snow, trees, colorful autumns, spring flowers that stand out in green meadows, fields burned straw-views from the summer heat.

Thus it was that he began his adventure, sailing solo in the seas raging Art.

1985 snowfall (snowfall of the century) Oil on canvas 120x100 cm (private collection F. & M. B. W.)

Thus, day after day, Woodns began to paint outdoors ...

Watercolor on cotton paper, 56x76 cm

Ex factory  Castagna (Como) Blood on cotton paper 50x35 cm (Private collection F. & M.B.W.)

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