By Vincenzo Sanfo

For some time, the streets of contemporary painting have branched out in apparently divergent directions, those between abstract painting and figurative painting.
Apparently, precisely, because the debate between figurative painting and abstract painting is actually a nonsense, since, in hindsight, painting is never abstract, even when it does not represent something definable and I cite as an example the cuts by Fontana that apparently abstract, they evoke sexually recognizable symbols and sometimes lunar visions of distant worlds.
As well as in Burri who in his seemingly abstract elaboration of materials, the most disparate, alludes to situations that bring the mind back to figuratively evocative data of wounds, sexes, landscapes and so on.
Just think of Fautrier, who with the titles, Otage and Potage of some of his works, already tells us that we are in a side of abstraction that entrusts, to the materiality of his being, the allusion to a recognizable datum, even if, at first glance, elusive.
This exercise, would take us far, until it touches the tearing and bursting gestures of Pollock, who entrusts the titles, sometimes, at first glance, improperly joined to his works, such as Cathedral, The Wooden Horse, Ocean Gray, Comet, Portrait of to Dreams etc. its need to indicate that, the essence of abstraction is in any case the result of an observation of nature, which, however, willingly or unwillingly, transpires in the works of artists, even from those apparently more distant from a figurative vision.

This is the case of Frisoni who, apparently far from figuration, however retains its evocative breath, where he does not immediately reveal the literal and descriptive declination of a landscape or an immediately recognizable place, but evokes it, like Fautrier, Burri, Fontana and in his own way, Pollock, imaginary visions, which arise not from the eyes, but from the heart.
In his paintings, materially refined, you meet the gentle hills of the Marche / Romagna, you can see small villages, lost in the immense silence of a secular, intimate landscape, made of sweet, soft, earthy tones, mixed with the Mediterranean blues of the sea and the skies of Italy.
In his paintings, the twilight echo of a feeling of love for his land is combined with the intimate vocation of the story, which is the essential component of his painting which finds, in a materially complex research, its catharsis.
Frisoni's work is poetically far from the shouted, vulgar, hastily unraveled painting in which contemporary art seems to struggle and wallow.
Fortunately, Frisoni's work belongs, I say, to another side, that of poetry, of reflection, it is a painting with a twilight character, therefore Montale, hard, hard, but candidly and poetically polished, as "cuttlefish bones ".