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A few years ago I visited the Don Quixote Art Gallery on a special day, when several renowned national artists were honored. Right at the entrance I came across a painting by Di Cavalcante, resting on an old easel. Beside, a text by the artist creatively defining the meaning of art:


"If in the fine arts

There is no breath of poetry

Which is the power to reach the eternal,

Everything becomes formal and perishable

And it will be diluted in time ... "

I was going through a period of uncertainties in relation to my painting, with every aspiration of an artist cornered by an avalanche of ideas and concepts advocated in an almost consensual way by specialized critics, which are opposed to my way of seeing painting based on drawing. .

Reading that text brought me encouragement and comfort, as it ended once and for all with one of my biggest questions.

Today, less pretentious, I paint for myself and for the unarmed observer, for the simple people or, as the poet Mário Quintana says: "for the round-the-clock Maria and for João bread-faced".

I paint what I feel and what touches me, inspired by what I see.

I paint like someone who writes a poem and, at the end, simply exposes it on a wall, without any pretense.

Sino Valentim

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