Many definitions for Norberto's painting have benne coined, that range from the naif stereotype to the worn figurative one. I have no wish to add another to the long list. I am not an art critic and aesthetic codes bewilder me and leave me full of doubts. I will, therefore, try and explain what i fell when i set foot in Norberto's studio, lying on the top of the hill in Spello. The hosue and the study are set apart from the town itself. They seem to nestle automatically amidst the olive trees. They have been built with refined good taste in an old desecrated church. The green valley streches at their feet from Assisi to Foligno. Noises are scarce. Down the plain a train whistles occasionally. It seems dreamlike: time stands still. Silence and vague thoughts become a tonic for the soul. Norberto is a modest, tranquil man within this gentle, domestic universe. Not for him the eccentricities and bizarre temperament of the artist. He has remained a simple person - a solid surface beneath which flow lymph and spirits. Fame, success and well-being have left him unchanged.