The more I learn, the more I am being taken and led by a stream of events, feelings, reactions, interactions and dialogues that end in cascades of thought and colour.

My painting changes from what my head tells me to what I see and experience, translating reality to the reality I can acknowledge as the one being mine.

 

As if I used my eyes to lay rays of dreams and emotions unto the grounds that are prepared to reflect and carry my life. As if my hand worked automatically in drawing up and filling the lines with what my inner world already knows. As if my poetry was not enough to convey and to communicate what it is that lies within my heartbeat. As if I did not know what I was doing and then later on tidy up the remnants of storms erupting .

 

Breaking rhythm I return to German Expressionism over and over again. Using my view, my knowledge, my personal accounts I return to the same , always the same. My idols lead me through my practice, they teach me still.