My language? Language itself.
I want to tell a story. Mine or someone else´s. The story that has to be is the one I want to tell. To connect. It depends on the story, on me, on someone else.
Layer after layer my work is built. There’s no initial plan, just a concept, a quest, an image, a shape. Chance, an accident. A text as foundation. I do not know what is next. That is the challenge. Thinking, feeling and experimenting between each layer. And doing.
The gesture of writing is always present. Asemic or with semantic content. To be seen or hidden under an image, camouflaged. A simple line, a scrawl, a phrase. I come from the world of words, from writing. Art shares the same essence, it´s just a different language. “Mute poetry or blind painting…”. This was said already, or written. It is a creed to me. Visual poetry is what brings my work together. Even a title counts, it is important. Another layer of meaning.
Daily life is where I find the best activators. Ideas and motivation come with a walk, a reading or a chat, from what I heard or was told, from a story I come across or the story that is brewing. From just life passing by. I try to be always alert. A texture, a light, a word… they are enough to trigger that drive which injects life and soul into creation. My work is weaved like in a fertile cloth. And from this fertility I tell a story. In some language.