There are calls, or signs, which happen to us as precise routes of a fate drawn ever since our child´s crying was plain, present and alive. In a poet or in a plastic artist there is just the transformation of color into word as a deciphering and explicit element.

On account of this, the mystery of the beautiful takes place in the painting by Plínio Palhano. Blue spaces, full of inquiries made by the pictorial word. Limpid, luminous and illuminated. Brown (maroon), yellow, green, red, white spaces, Major Arcana in which the outlined friezes and the nearby horizons are staked. Figures in progress - horses, men, trees, nudes, marinas, built above their own strength or bodies that move themselves as our eyes travel over the paintings, in reply to the shadows brightened by the intensity of the sites - perfect sea - where horses prance their white luminosities or men glide across their set realities.

Flying figures revisited in the depth of the ground, as if they had streamed out from a tender, brief and unreal wind. Perfect lightness for those who have in their hands the texture and the colors of Time!

Hence the geometry of the living figures moving through the reds of the shirts, the black of the pants, the blue of the sky or of the sea, the browns (maroons) of the trunks, the green of the boughs, the yellow of the flowers or the dazzling white of the waves, the silhouettes of the horses or of the recesses of a subtle, faint and nearby vastness. Intercalated and interlinked silences of color.

After seeing it, let´s close or just open slightly our eyes. And we will behold the simplicity of the color in its whole beauty and shape, inasmuch as nothing is spent in vain on the canvas.

Everything is suitable: as deformation of sequences, consequences and "non-sequences". It is due to me to dream. Mostly because dreaming is not only to look for images to fit into the words. Dreaming is also to feel the colors and shapes that Plínio Palhano offers us. With all his naturalness, all his mastery.

Olinda, March 16, 1996.