Paolo Colombo’s (b. 1949) paintings and photographs illustrate with exactness a lyrical series of moments, each holding the intensity of a world. Ranging from sizes to be peered into or poured over, they open across saturated washes of color, checkered squares, fine lines or lettering with a consistency of embroidered cloth.
Chosen in part for its resistance as a medium to correction, we see watercolours in their most soft or dense tones of magenta, deep red, azure, and the rich pale gold of a particular light or sand. Several works physically suspend or lightly attach silhouettes, leaving a shadow or suggestion of possible movement (a pair of shoes, a ballerina), while others arrive at this suspension visually, placing a shape (a bundle of flowers, a foot) with the elusive insistence of a gesture against a textured field.