One of the richest features of our contemporary art is compulsively revealed in a way devoid of formality. In Plínio Palhano´s painting this trend is alive, almost choreographic, in a progressive dance constructing a bewitching work filled with color and movement. The large pictures bearing the drama of the several movements of this colorful "ballet" are the arena in which the artist´s inner fights flow into this stormy sea, uterine as the first sea, spawner of worlds. Arena or "tatami", the big canvases remind me of what I once heard about Manabu Mabe: "I attack the canvas with my brush: every color a stroke, every stroke a movement…"

Waves as choppy as the steps of those who beget, add more fuel to the planet´s surface, to the fire of the souls, convulsive as a music without scale, having an exact rhythm and a strong harmony: atonal and thrilling. The present collection of works by Plínio is different in its totality, but, on the whole, they are a tight-knit piece, a singular set made up of dissimilar and opposite emotions flowing through the weaves of its nervous tissue. As with music, it goes from andante, pizzicati, allegros and cantatas emerging out of the stirred pictorial matter in search of an apotheosis for all this construction of represented figures - not the figure in itself, but the human sign, its main reference of being in the world - dance steps, sceneries, atmospheres, reflections and deep emotions. Yet, this climax brings together the contradiction that reveals the artist´s greatest delirium, for in the last canvases the painting enters into an agreement with the landscape and begins to represent the lavish sights of Olinda. By not bumping up against academic rules (figure, landscape, abstraction), his creative process mixes in with his own process of life, heavy with all his psychological complex. This painting, or rather this repainting, reveals Olinda covered with green and red shadows, darks in the top of the mango trees, mellow colors, dark blue tones, lights crisscrossed by clouds, little geometry and vegetal clues. At this point, the artist loses control and his painting becomes collective, is no more introspective, takes to the backyards and streets, leaves the stage - a place for solitary exercises - goes outdoors - to the planet´s skin, scenery of experience - blending into life.

If we see it in the distance, we may think that Plínio makes his rugged way from in to outside, a process of gestation and childbirth in search of constructing himself: from the sign to the landscape that sets free, from the chromatic modulation to the subject-matter: to the mass: to the mass of pure paints, as if his hand armed itself with colors and his retina with spaces to record his own body, his absolute truth.

If we see it at close quarters, we may encounter the artist´s instruments: his inaccuracy, his loose phrases, his figurative suggestions, his denials and fears, his definitive statements. The walking on the stage, the piece structure, the lighting, the sound - the sound of color - the shine, humidity, the determination, the neatness and velocity.

A text like this is similar to the painting by Plinio: unaccomplished.