There’s no truth in painting, it’s not a mirror, nor a window on the world, nor its fiction, but a tool for tracing our relationship to the world. For years, I moved from figuration to abstraction, refusing to choose between the two. But whatever the practice, it’s the desire to represent the wonder of certain everyday moments that has guided my desire to paint. In recent years, however, figurative painting has taken over my work. Starting with personal photographs, I make visible to myself the elements of a secret biography made up of the moments I like to remember: those that remind me that life is magical and everyday.
When I was little, I wanted to be a painter. Like my grandfather, who lived a romantic life of painting and bravery, like my great-great-grandfather, who engraved kings, noblemen and Rembrandt. But then I spent a lifetime as an architect, despairing that I hadn’t kept up the initial momentum. Then one day, it all fell apart. I stop everything, pick up my brushes and don’t stop. I explore, looking for the uncharted path. It’s been 10 years.