Few engravings, like those of Morandi (Bologna 1890 - 1964), possess the gift of silence. In his unmistakable touch, in his crystalline and lyrical signs, in his "strict bright elegy", a sovereign concentration is always set on a clear moment of eternity. The silence of simple domestic objects; the silence of the dust that deposited its white veil on the surface of a bottle, a bowl, a jug, a vase. The silence of a few rough and essential landscapes. The silence of a room, a studio, his cell, where his conscience investigated the mystery of things. Like Rembrandt, a master that he especially admired, the perfection of the touch - rarefied and light, dense and dramatic, slight and transparent, dense and teeming - identifies its various forms in a parallel path, never subordinated to painting. Signs, lines, gestures and candid black and white patterns, live between the infinite shades of grey, like a happy score, where each look, like a musical instrument, will perform its marks and its colours.