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As far as I can remember, my hands speak for me… Drawings and Art School projects… my Italian roots.

I do have a distinct memory of Alphonse Daudet’s windmill, from the colour of the roof tiles; to the material I had given them… The evenings I had spent into the small family’s kitchen, painting. “You wanna draw? Study first.” That was my Parents motivation! Many efforts and time spent on the mathematics, physics, a real confinement… Satisfying to them.Today, painting is my relief… How trivial!It tells my feelings, it sets, straws in splashes, drifts with large brushes gestures and also really fast as if I was running out of time…

And then, my gesture calm down, it comes the time to think: the wet colour, the dry one, my visual field is focusing, small touches respond to the finger, the brush.

It starts with an idea, a text, a sentence and it all begins, it crafts, takes form. Even feelings such as: Anger; Sadness; Fear; Natural events; the Genesis; the Apocalypse, Creation. Painting is a game field; an experimental laboratory where everything is possible and mistakes are needed to move forward, as doubt and dissatisfaction too.

To the other question “When you work on a painting is done, do you forget it? ” the painter Zao Wou-Ki answered: “I’m never satisfied with it. I don’t think that could ever be perfect.”