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Surrealism, dreams, symbolism, mysticism,.... it doesn’t matter.
Since the beginning, I have always attempted to paint the individual and the masses, the rough material and the inside light, the tree of life, woman and the roots, child and conception, the crowd roaming in search of lost values, the parallel ways, the mystery of origins and of death. The “seuils”, the cracks, the passages which make us eternal dissatisfied wanderers, standing between life and death, between hapiness and misery.
Fears, fantaisies, obsessions ? It’s been a long time I stopped asking these questions. What remains is the fact of painting, essential, which sometimes gives birth, at the tip of a frail brush, to a fragment of yourself or simply, the joy and the pain of creation...
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