Few would argue that the Italians are passionate people, rarely hesitant to express themselves in whatever way they deem fit. Alfredo de Guiseppe’s Hidden Art lays out a platform for four such exuberant souls, lovers of life who escape their humdrum realities with fervent outpourings of their creative essence. We have the horticulturalist cum folk poet, the plasterer who compulsively models strange miniature enclaves, the level crossing signalman who not only paints à la Pollock but also composes verse in praise of his creator (who also, troublingly, appears to refer to himself in the third person) and finally, the hospital orderly who has discovered her talent for the stage, craving challenging roles and risking her reputation by taking on the role of (gasp) a lesbian detective.

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