« A breath, a cry; that of the first expiration, of the nascent being expressed by a nervous, full line, which I throw on the support, the canvas, the paper. An unrestrained “breath of ink” that lets itself be guided by instinct, by the body, the arm, the hand very much alive to face the material which becomes friend, enemy.
A struggle of abused, crumpled, torn paper with color, pigments, glue, coating and my presence lead me to the raw world of woody material in development or decomposition. It is this result of de/recomposition that I am going to search, scratch, tear out, this game which obeys no form but which will suddenly take on a formal, hasty, fleeting character.
My painting then becomes a confrontation between a light without apparent source and a shadow with hidden depths and it is in this den that my beings take on their full meaning. My material souls wake up in the space of the canvas to then better escape it, get out of it and fall into that of the viewer, into his reality. »