Why did I start painting? Maybe I missed the warmth, the flavour of home, the individuality and intensity of colours and sensations. Or maybe I fancied Kate Moss (do you remember her?) and, as I could not have either her or the dream, I painted her. Several years later, I am still painting. Maybe I have never stopped fancying Kate, … Read More
No cause and effect link between one’s life and one’s hand is possible, yet the line of life on my palm is split. A sense of rupture coupled with a child-like wonder at the real and virtual surrounding worlds permeate my work: paintings, painting installations,objects, photography.
Meaning is not the reason of being of the work I produce, it is merely its excuse.
I am not interested in Art Theory or Art History in these writings, but rather in marking a theoretical and critical space for the practice and development of my own artistic endeavours. This space is not so much about certainties, but rather about an ungrown territory of enquiry defined by ever changing fences.
Now I am having two impudent pigeons kissing in my balcony, while others, riotous, proceed to systematically and efficiently demolish it.