Mario Berrino creates his paintings with spatula strokes – or rather, strokes of light:
a Mexican or Peruvian light that reaches him unbroken and without intermissions
on the shore of Alassio, where he is with his Hemingwayan parrot on the shoulder,
awaiting for the solar visions that come from overseas.
Dazzled, if not transfixed, he paints, or better, he projects on the canvas the colours,
an earthly matter that becomes image for a transmutation of which Berrino is the
self-conscious agent or the unconscious demiurge.