A picked bundle of light in the night, where the night is darker than every other reality, as if the dark cloth produced of sudden the light one but defined vastness of a bright tear of existence. The black is the color of a desperate beginning, and the internal world of Bubani appears us, before sfrangiarsi of light, as waiting for a decisive epifany, of a dawn after the endless length of the night. Bubani is a painter in attended, his/her figurations - images of light in movement - they are catartic motions that has crossed states of alienation. But in the works on paper we discover a visibility of nature, as if after so much to wander in dark cosmoses (unknown cosmoses of the soul) we regained a perception of the things; and approaching we are glimpse incisions as to fire - that instead they are done with spatulas and pointed utensils -, small out lava castings to black drop to be reflected themselves on the cardboard worked with the vinavil in transparency. The final result is a sequence of natural sedimentations as picked up after the abandonment of an ancient sea. I would say that it is important when he powerfully discusses of objectual painters as Bubani to report their expressive quality of assemblage where an inside music distinguishes and dignifies the grevit's of the materials.