I am an abstract painter…that the paintings seem to come from anything is a paradox, they rather occur after a fashion. Confronted with the anxiety of the blank canvas and with that resulting energy, I paint until I have ruined it, then beginning again, I continue working rather lost between the brushstrokes until I scrape it off, or some of it, and put it back, or some of it. Eventually there is the residual map, or blueprint of a human activity that is at the same time creative and useless. Lines are added that you cannot see because they have been pulverized by light, images surface and vanish, and visual and literary logic are betrayed by a disruptive yet invisible gravity.
There are no burning babies, no dancing firemen, no gravity or passage of time, yet all these and more are regularly seen by others. Those objects and relationships that seem to exist do not and instead exist in a subversive paradox…this apparent mirror in which the viewer ultimately finds him or her self.