Beatrice Basso

Suminagashi Artist

Since I was a child I have always had a great attraction for water, it is not by chance that I was born on 22 March: World Water Day. My dream was to become a dancer.

Art is at the centre of my life, a passion passed on by my grandfather, who was a painter and violinist. I have spent most of my life among canvases, paints, brushes, exhibitions, stories and the smell of turpentine.


One day my life stopped because of a pain that nothing can heal. I ran away imagining that I could leave it behind, but I realised only later that I would have to endure it. Hence my journey of knowledge in search of self-awareness.


I have learnt over the years to develop various skills in the work I have done. In my experience as a sales manager, in the environmental sector, I recognised an already conscious love of nature. In the years spent as a store manager and in visual merchandising in the jewellery sector, I was able to express my organisational and managerial, strategic and creative skills. The training in coaching, based on the uniqueness of the person, and the knowledge of art therapy were decisive for the realisation of the Suminagashi experience. The encounter with Suminagashi was dazzling and enlightening.


When I am in search of inspiration, I isolate myself with my dogs, walk along the river bank or by the sea. To put my ideas into practice, I shut myself up at home with sheets of paper, notes, coloured pens and a PC, I talk out loud at the mercy of my thoughts and I become a source of attraction for my cats, my little four-legged pests. 


I only recently realised that my wish to become a dancer was fulfilled by dancing on the surface of the water with my brushes and colours that blend into a slow, elegant, sinuous flow, just as I dreamed as a child.

Suminagashi Artist

NLP Coach certificato dalla Society of NLP del dr. Richard Bandler.

After completing my training in coaching (Unconventional coaching school of Andrea Favaretto), my passion for art led me to specialise in Rome in art-mediated communication techniques, where I learned various skills including Suminagashi, the art of painting on water.

The combination of the characteristics of my individuality and the strong connection with nature and water have allowed me to give a personal touch to my workshops, courses or events, thus creating the Suminagashi experience method.

Beatrice has created something unique: she has managed to combine Yin and Yang through Suminagashi and coaching, self-awareness and practice to find her own way. 

Under her careful guidance, she enables people to sort out life situations that have long been unresolved.


Andrea Favaretto 

Founder of the Unconventional Coaching School® and of the Success Without Effort program

Short story "Floating ink

from the book "Water"

In 2018, with one of my stories, I contributed to the book "Water", a collection of short stories by the Scriviperbene group: authors who commit to a project, donating their copyrights to charities

Red leaves were falling from the trees on a cold autumn afternoon. I was sitting by the river bank on a small wooden platform, listening to Sara, the troubled friend that I wanted to help. It was important for me to help her take the right direction in her life. It was the ideal moment, the current was changing and the setting sun was creating light effects. The contact with nature was perfect. I took my basin from my bag, filled it with water, dipped my brush in ink and placed it in her hand. I told her to touch the water and let herself go with the floating drawings that were taking shape. An ancient Japanese artistic technique of refined elegance, the only one able to allow her to create a strong connection with her inner world, and facilitate the transition from the symbolic aspect to self-reflection, bringing to light new awareness. I laid the paper on top of the water and transferred the drawing onto the paper, the image that emerged was revelatory. New awareness came to both of us loud and clear. At that very moment I stood still and listened. My curiosity was piqued, I had to get into my grandfather's room. The door was locked, my grandmother had a bad habit of always hiding all the keys.  An endless search to find out where it was. I found it. I was excited, my heart was thumping, I hadn't opened the door for months, since my grandfather had passed away. Everything had remained just as he had left it; no one had entered the room where he used to take refuge and paint. Memories of childhood, the smell of painting, of used colours, of acrylics, the smell of my grandfather. Hundreds of paintings, books, magazines, his notes and the last canvas that was never completed. An immense blue space. Water. Everything smelled of him. I felt no nostalgia, the essence of special people never dies, he was there, he lived on in his paintings. I took a brush in my hand, a medium-sized one with a rounded tip, the oil paints were dry and unusable. I opened my bag, took the basin and filled it with water, then I moved on to the ink and dipped the brush, I touched the tip of the brush to the water, it was a strange sensation, I felt myself floating along with the colour. I moved my face closer to the basin and with a simple breath the colour seemed to expand into an abstract drawing that I felt made sense, the magic of water, a dialogue that was impossible to stop, a thousand images took shape. I sat there, closed my eyes and began my journey.

Outside it is pitch black, it is cold. Midnight, the moon is reflected in the river, everything is calm. I like to sit on the bank, watch the current change direction, listen to the crickets singing, I like the smell of the water, and the fireflies crossing from one bank to the other. There is a lot of hunger, a lot of fear and some relief from the Germans’ gunfire. The day is coming to an end. Forty-four kilometres on the bike, I feel tired, my legs ache and I'm hungry, but my soul is filled with joy. Today I was able to attend the lecture at the Academy of Fine Arts and I am happy, and on this night of the full moon, I am grateful for life. I don't know what will happen, but now I have my dream and I imagine a future as an artist. It's late, I go into the house. In the kitchen only a piece of bread, twelve mouths to feed, I am the lucky one, the one who studies, I can't expect more than that. It doesn't matter, I devour it in a few seconds and then to bed. I leave the window half-open, in the background is my trusted companion, always him, my river, waiting for me and freeing me from all weariness and fear. It has so much to teach me: it goes beyond all limits, faces obstacles, changes shape, adapts and moves on. It is dawn and my family is up and ready for a day’s work in the fields. I pick up my packed lunch, four slices of polenta, and say goodbye to the mirror of water that reflects the sun. I pedal hard all the way to the vaporetto. Today Venice is enchanting, sun and fog mingle together. I am early and enjoy the view. The canal is full of mysterious places, ancient legends, secrets, an arcane and indefinite landscape where stories of damned souls intertwine with mortals. At lunch everyone goes to the canteen, I have the usual polenta but I don't want the others to find out. Darkness falls and I have to go home, but I'm afraid. The fog is thick, I can’t see anything. I sweat and pray. My legs are heavy, hard, I feel them trembling, I must calm down. The road is long, I'm tired and I have a strange feeling. I want to cry but I don't. Sitting in the saddle I pedal hard, to avoid thinking. There's not a soul on the road, I'm afraid of the Germans. Strange thoughts drift through my mind, I turn my attention to the river, which is always reassuring. I arrive at two o'clock in the morning, the fog is frightening, the water is murky and the moonlight creates strange images. I don't go down to the river tonight, I go into the house, I go up to my room without dinner, I have a hole in my stomach. A premonition. I wake up before dawn. I go down to the kitchen, there is no packed lunch, my mother is crying, holding a letter in her hand: Italian Army, I have been called up. It's not true, I feel like dying, just when my dream was beginning to take shape. I run, I run fast towards my beloved river, I cry and ask for help. Today it is calm, clear, and I am lulled by the sound of the waves gradually fading along the banks. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, take the brush from my trouser pocket and start to stroke the water. There is an unbreakable bond between us. I just listen. Water is transparent, it does not need to hide, water has memory. Ripples do not change it or upset it. Water always becomes calm again.


Preparation, Execution and Interpretation:​

the three phases of development of the 



Personal growth paths tailor-made for the person or the context at hand, favouring

the experiential and creative approach