About my work. The leitmotiv

Let the death play the violin with its cricket over the strings of grey roads in the jeering wind. I turn the cold wind into Spanish fans.

Wink the white doves to give their gay feathers to decorate the skin of my skittish nymphs. Now and then I wonder along my contours with my vulnerable charcoal and go with a butterfly on my walking stick and travel drawing till deepening into the ultramarine feast. There I’ll tie red ribbons to harden cold granite and then I listen how they breathe by singing.

I read to you, but without acronyms I paint with challenging arabesques voluptuous clouds dancing in pink lingerie under a paper moon of invented candle light where the love dries upon an Eau de Vie de Mirabelle on a clothesline at nipple height by clamorous clapping of round knees.

With my pictorial eagerness I experience a restless world with paint the liberal chalk wads of colour on surprised brushes balancing in my hand. I take the risks for slips, extravagant scratches and contours, smudged  mascara’s and scars from on occasion the regrettably crumpled canvas, but it is a scream  an explosion, I open my dream case and her pointer which direct daubs and chalk pieces and the impossible streaks into my tuft of paint. As I hope, ending into beauty.

Here art theory is of no use, with its confusing map of the soul, the souls draw up. Art with a big A shouldn’t be on the dissecting table of stylized gentlemen and frowned psychologists. With me the Sun and the Moon shine accessory on voluptuous chandeliers hanging on a rainbow.

Translated by Tanit Lopez