I did not want to live my life, I simply wanted to live my dreams. As in a film of Felini where the magic of subtracted art the spectator in crepuscular time and promises in childhood to avoid death.

Felini, my model, the one who really marked me. The one who showed me the ways of freedom and, who blew me the only working method which I know and who goes to me: submit body and soul, at all costs in "his " imagination, stick on its fantasies.

Painting is not born of me, I was born of her. It is acrylic, aqueous, and voyeur, the lunar world of graffitis.

I stick, take off, daub, scratch, chafe, splash, bedaub, tear, stick together again, pamper, fondle, cook up nail. My job is instinctive and sensual writing. I am applied to forget what I do not know.

I peinds to be. It is the perpetual and vital research of an original stammering, of secret, obvious, essential lines.

This exercise of freedom and pure pleasure also asks for a requirement and for a rugueur in the adventure which is a delivery in order on his/her own and of the world.