ANCHISE PICCHI: one of the last figurative masters of the twentieth century.
As a lonely artist, often misunderstood, Anchise Picchi has always escaped the usual commercial channels of the art.
He has never leaned to external structures, political or not, in pushing and promoting his work.
He was always faithful to a universal, autonomous and independent vision of the art, but that hasn't prevented him, however, in seeking incessantly new expressive means and unpublished techniques in a constant effort of realization of his projects and ideas.


He was constantly concerned with the working world and more precisely with the rural and farmer world, escaping yet from any demagogic way that can shade a political intent of his work.
All his work must be mainly read, therefore, in a poetic and human key.
The country environment, the tiring work of the fields and of the countries, the flow of the time and of the seasons have always represented, for this artist, the principal matter of his realizations. He didn't look for any political parties, associations, friendships or factions to introduce and to advertise his works, in participating to artificial discussions and dissertations on the problems of a society, ours society, that seems really to have lost the own origins and the own roots.


He gone down, instead, with his art, in a world that often and mistaking we likes to say "provincial". A world that well he knew and loved and that concerns everybody too. It's from there that all we come, and we know it well. Even if not well we know where it is that we are going.
He testified fondly and sincerely the work and the pain of the humble; not with anecdotal or iconographic detached coldness, but with the warm feeling in knowing, suffering and loving those things.


In the convulsive contemporary life we often forget a time and a place at which we have to devote at least memory.


It wasn't a heaven the life in the fields and of the farmers, as it was not the same the similar life of the factories and of the workshops. Too often it was pain, it was hard work, it was poverty. However it was rarely loneliness. It was constantly present a human dimension of the people, of the facts, of the things that, not wrote in laws and rules, however that world constantly felt as the principal factor of social cohesion, as the "common glue" for all those people that shared the same works and the same risks.

And the environment, the land was never unknown. It was never understood like a mere frame to the life, felt scarcely and often with bother, nor there we could take the liberty to ignore, as now, the characteristics, the necessities, the borders, the rules.

In the art of this master it is always present a sort of painful attention for the characters, the environment, the actions that, tied up with the nostalgia in remembering, into the aware shiny reality of the memory and into the light melancholy of the dream they are getting a universal, coherent and unitary poetic dimension, they are now a historically inseparable reality, they are a unique and eternal thing: they are the life.