" Mon lonely place, my hut. "
« Something that concerns childhood. As a teenager, I laid down my building myths there...
Rothko, Léonard, Caravage, Zao Wou KI, Fabienne Verdier, Pignon-Ernest, and also, Janis, Bobin, Bashung, shells or Vivaldi.
This all mixed that makes me.
A mirror. A portrait. My secret book. »
Each component, even the most trivial, is consciously placed, in its proper place, in support of a very personal harmony.
« All my work lies on deep moods, I can't help it. And these moods are not premeditated, so I organize the improvisation… »
I need to see my tools, to consider all my colours, all my techniques, in order to serve best spontaneity. Immediate access to all my equipment allows me this freedom. Drawers are opened, pigment pots are visible, paint tubes are all close to my palette. Thus I avoid the intellectual reflexion that requires research. If my mood wants blue, it takes it. Instinctively. Thoughtlessly. In order to do as little harm as possible to such an elusive and wild unconscious, who is the real leader of my paintbrush...
