Among the photographs selected and prepared for inclusion in the book are a series of judiciously composed and disarmingly direct landscapes. Solemn and timeless by virtue of their monumental stillness, I believe they had a profound effect on my father’s art. I can recall detecting at the time a pivotal shift in certain aspects of his work, as I witnessed the emergence of a new aesthetic sensibility, particularly with regard to his approach to watercolour. Up until that point my father had for the most part used watercolour as a means of adorning a firmly grasped pen-and-ink line drawing. Suddenly images began to emerge that were entirely devoid of such defining delineations. These modest-size watercolours on paper represented a new sensibility in my father’s work – one of a beguilingly quiet and contemplative nature born of experience and sorrow. Deep within the recesses of his soul, my father had discovered his alter ego, a sombre, twilit counterpart to his once singularly solar temperament. Although the bright, cheerful disposition would always prevail, from this point forward it would be tempered by a wistful awareness of the ephemeral nature of life. Five years into his collaboration with Rizzoli Editore, my father was beginning to feel as if he had exhausted the creative challenges and professional opportunities Italy had to offer. Restless once again and ready for a change, he moved our family back to the United States in 1977. For the next six years my father lived and worked from a home in Cold Spring, New York, located along the Hudson River just an hour north of New York City. In 1983, my parents moved again, this time to Hamburg Cove, a picturesque hamlet by the shores of the Connecticut River, thus fulfilling a lifelong dream of his to live and work near the Long Island Sound. There he spent the remaining nine years of his life, working in close proximity to the water, restoring the boat he christened Gradisca, in honour of Fellini’s Amarcord, tending to his ever-expanding vegetable and flower gardens, and enjoying his grandchildren. With his children grown and himself removed from the busy social life he once thrived upon, my father led a relatively monastic life, characterized by reflection, introspection, and retrospection. The years of his maturity were defined as much by a further refinement and restating of the archetypal conceptual, stylistic, and technical devices for which he had been celebrated, as by novelty of invention. This retrospection came about, in part, as a result of his having begun the process of archiving his work. Thus we find him revisiting a host of archetypal images from his youth, breathing new life into them, and bestowing upon them a technical mastery afforded by a lifetime of experience.