Artist’s statement
I approach the canvas unconvinced of any specific idea or form, confident that
with innocence and passion a world will be conjured. Again and again, eggs
become tombstones, helicopters turn into eyes--anything is possible At any
time, figures are born and die, and are reborn. Sunsets fade, moons come
round. Schools of fish, oblivious to the affairs of man, emerge and disappear:
bottle-blonde men screwing goats next to their child bride, people fighting for
their lives in the ring that becomes a sea, people floating dreamlike in domestic
scenes. Naked annuciations, closeted crucifixions.
Life was isolated from the herd. At an inverse proportion I fell in love with my
own lovely land. The world of courtroom art was left behind with its momentary
concerns in grim games. I embarked on a pictorial exploration of the
subconscious. How could it be achieved, that within a picture’s four walls there
could be change, memory, sexuality? I found the answer in a certain directed
hedonism--that is, through dance and song, movement and smoke. And there I
remained, the conduit of consciousness. And there remained life sifting through
me.
I approach the canvas unconvinced of any specific idea or form, confident that
with innocence and passion a world will be conjured. Again and again, eggs
become tombstones, helicopters turn into eyes--anything is possible At any
time, figures are born and die, and are reborn. Sunsets fade, moons come
round. Schools of fish, oblivious to the affairs of man, emerge and disappear:
bottle-blonde men screwing goats next to their child bride, people fighting for
their lives in the ring that becomes a sea, people floating dreamlike in domestic
scenes. Naked annuciations, closeted crucifixions.
Life was isolated from the herd. At an inverse proportion I fell in love with my
own lovely land. The world of courtroom art was left behind with its momentary
concerns in grim games. I embarked on a pictorial exploration of the
subconscious. How could it be achieved, that within a picture’s four walls there
could be change, memory, sexuality? I found the answer in a certain directed
hedonism--that is, through dance and song, movement and smoke. And there I
remained, the conduit of consciousness. And there remained life sifting through
me.
