As an artist, Bonaldi is like an old traveller who, instead of writing his impressions in a notebook, picks up the clays from the places he visits. Then, in the workshop, comes the fanciful work of assembling the different clays and culptures and fusing them into a single work. A ceramist who works uninterruptedly, he manages to fly over the whole world metaphorically from his workshop, along the river Brenta. The Culpture of a people, the memories of our past and rural wisdom are translated into allegorical forms, often monstrous, at times defaced almost by slogans fromtoday's world which have become reasons for being, as if to say: "We can become what there was before us". As a result, every clod of earth, even the smallest piece of clay for firing, has got years of work behind it, years of the fatigue of the men who walked on top of it. But it is also imbued with the festive moments, the colours of joy, the variety of the seasons, and the light of the darkness peopled by strange figures.