All I know about painting, I have learned by following my own impulses, by trial and error.
Why should I paint?
Perhaps because it gives me a temporary relief from the pain that makes life almost unbearable most of the time.
Happiness is a lie. Sadness is a dungeon, a labyrinth of expectations.
I’d rather have neither.
In art, I am looking for transcendence.
And I am looking for primal instincts, too.
Covering surfaces with a coat of paint can trigger the kind of satisfaction that is unlike anything else.
I would like to pour paint over everything.
My true self was hidden away a long time ago.
It has become impossible to be me. And it has become impossible to function properly in the world.
A void. I am a black void of space.
Art is what cannot be found.
Please bring me some colours.
Colours have the power to mute all words, all the shrieking and blabber and nagging that goes on from morning till evening and all through the night.
At least for a moment.
Art is silence.