Wim Wenders

... did not only matter most
to a very curious and inquisitive apostle,
Doubting Thomas;
it is a human propensity.
We’re predisposed to both
wanting to see
and wanting to believe.

And we are all doubters today:
what we can’t see (or better even: touch),
we find hard to accept,
more so than ever.

Painting has always been a form of make-believe,
in the very sense of the word:
painters do make us believe in things,
by the very fact that they put them on canvas.

They don’t ask us, though,
to believe in the reality of these things,
like photographers do.
Painters want to convince us of something else:
that it is possible
to see their essence,
what these objects, landscapes and people are.
The nature of their being
is what they’re after.

Vermeer had no interest
in representing the physical authenticity of a maid
leaning over her work,
when he labored over his painting “The Lacemaker.”
He was interested in more than the depiction of a job
or the simple description of life.
No, he wanted to paint “life itself,”
the very soul of such a woman,
the sheer core of such a place,
the actual nature of such a light ...

He wanted to see like nobody before him.
And he wanted to share that with us.
He certainly did!
He still does, centuries later.

Some paintings oblige you, the viewer, to step back
and to squeeze your eyes,
so that you can see their beauty shine.
Only in this way do they reveal their truth.

Facing the paintings of Robert Bosisio
we don’t have to step back.
Robert has done that for us.
He has painted what we see
through half-closed lids.

Simple things:
A bed!
A door!
(Or two doors ...)
A head!
A body!
The horizon!

Like for Vermeer,
seeing is not only Robert’s greatest pleasure,
and a sacred act;
it is also the very subject of his art.
(And not only when he is painting an eye ...)

When you stand in front of his canvasses
he makes you see and recognize (again)
that painting can still transcend the surface of things
and reach their quintessence,
even in the 21st century.
He makes us believe (again)
that we’re not just surrounded with stuff
but with real objects that have a spirit.

You can also go very close
and examine each stroke of a brush.
In the tiniest detail
you’ll see
how deeply he is concerned with the truth
of places, landscapes and people,
in their light
and in the evidence of their being.

This show even allows you a glance
into the history of his painting process:
where he is coming from,
and how he learned to see
both the appearance and surface of things
as well as their soul.
Just look at the picture of a bed!
Or better even: that of a sleeping boy!
Don’t you hear his soft breathing?
Don’t you even smell the air?
Don’t you feel the peace?
And because you looked at him for too long,
don’t you see the boy’s eye opening now
and his face starting to smile?!

Every true painter
is also a teacher
to our eyes.