The Liberating Motion

Vitali's latest Still lives had already stated it. At that point, objects were only an excuse, and the real subject was the wall: what lies under the artist's eyes fuses with its surroundings allowing backgrounds to become the pure essence of what is represented.
One can recognize the old walls that served both as an outline to the previous  still lives, and as a support to shredded posters. One can take a glance at the shadows from the "musical" compositions that Vitali painted on his canvas with accuracy and precision. These compositions can be recognized and simultaneously remain unrecognizable, concealed in a color whirlpool that seems to have engulfed every single shade in order to produce one elusive one.
Bidimensionality disappears along with the last fragments of papers and posters pasted on the walls, it is engorged by the canvas, and the only present width is the mere color, which is sometimes mixed with sand and vigorously applied to the coarse jute fibers before it is finally scraped, almost as a gesture of liberation from an art that has nothing else to say, crystallized in a sort of perfection that could not express the artist's emotions, his yearnings and his rage. Figures cannot reappear in these works, and if they do they are deformed, lured into imperfection so that they cannot be related anymore to an artistic period that has already been concluded. There is nothing in Vitali's canvases, and yet something is always visible to the eye: a memory, an incitement an allusion to some object that once existed but has now dissolved in the absolute vagary of the mind.