Like a rough stone, softened by the strength of a child’s will, sensitivity and wildness embrace each other in my work, constantly taking each other’s place. There is something deep inside of me that I need to understand. Something blurry and seemingly formless. Something contained within the stomach, the chest, the heart and the sex.
My body is a window to the world, it connects me with everything and everyone around me. I keep imagining dimensions. I keep imagining relations.
Moving from inside to outside. Recomposing myself everytime, manipulating everything from within. I engage with something else. Something’s pulling me, moving me. Something that picks me up from the painful bottom of the cave, and pushes me back up to the surface. It allows me to breathe for a second, before it pulls down again. It is a dive into the pretended unknown.
I just surrender, but… it is my own will, my own inner strength. My oldest companion.