Manuela Greco's art is the testimony of how the endless, almost obsessive need of contemporaries to give vent to expressive impulses. There is the possibility of producing something interesting and, above all, recognizable. It is easy to understand a knowledge of classical figurative painting of the best Italian tradition which, starting from the perspective of the Renaissance mold, passes through the twentieth-century experiments typical of the Avant-garde. The admirable use of a chromatism of neutral colors does justice to the deliberate search for a painting of the soul, a painting that before being transposition of the matter is an expression of the being of the artist whether it takes shape in figure or in a crosshatch of pure color. I would define that of Manuela as art that plunges into the depth of the ego, a successful attempt to give shape to the ineffable, to capture a feeling, a movement of the soul reproduced in an unfinished gaze or body. A thoughtful but fast, fresh painting, with a firm brushstroke, which stops the work hovering between the said and the unsaid, leaving the viewer margin to be able to play with the fantasy among the chiaroscuro of its backgrounds. Paintings that live from the intensity of the painting that makes them alive but similar to photographic shots that stop the decisive moment, that moment in which life remains suspended between what happens and what will never be.