I have always painted. I am always painting.
From the black heart of a sunflower to a green eye, colors are life. This is what I paint - a pulsating life.
When I see a face, bones and flesh melt into an intricate pattern of colors crisscrossing: a blue shadow, a yellow spot, a red blur, then a delicate yet powerful interplay of light starts revealing the uniqueness of that individual. And from one face, I enter the mystery of all faces, the impalpable breath of life. I am fascinated by the human form: the endless combination of lines, the ephemeral quality of an expression. Each person is a sum which offers itself through a multitude of lines. Sadness, hope, despair, ecstasy, all our emotions are there, already painted, already carved.
I scratch, scrape, rub, and brush out the form through layers of colors. I only suggest the eye, the nose, the mouth, because I really paint a respiration. I must let the flesh go, free it from a too definite reality. My black lines and shadows do that. They both outline and break the illusory permanence of the form. They let the figure escape the canvas and come alive on its own.
I paint not the matter of reality but its balance, its fluctuation.
Wood, wire and cement bring me close to flesh and bones. I sculpt the human form, again not to copy it but to explore and conceptualize its infinite possibilities. From the paleolithic carvings to the post-surrealistic assemblages, artists have only begun to tackle the human lines. I feel connected to all of them. One other vision. Sculpting tends to reach a quieter side of me. Cement is strong and silent, it makes me ponder things in a gentle way. I let the form rise softly upward and stretch stoically.