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.
An immense space within,
filled with roughness and gentleness,
details and secrets.
A lonely place.
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.
Collaborations with strangers I find along my path,
who most times become dear friends,
I keep trying to make sense,
with the world surrounding me.
I try to understand;
with the inner and outer world.
The heaviness of life.
What is truth? Acceptance?
how do we talk about it?
I want to imagine more
Go less against my nature,
embrace it completely.
I have always liked rawness,
facts as they come.
Preferring to suffer through reality,
than avoiding conflict.
What is beyond mind and body?
Where do they meet?
How do they expand and create together?