Painting is physical. It is the work of a mason, a plasterer, a renovator, and a
demolisher. I cover, I smooth out, I add and then I remove, I scratch, I erase and I start
again. But, in the meantime, I move forward and backwards, overturning any obstacle in
my way. That is what a painter does. It is the chase after an image that one wants to
tame and to submit to one’s will, that one wears oneself out nailing down in a never
satisfying face to face, as in a distorting mirror. It is a work of construction/destruction
until exhaustion sets in, until the other, the image, seems to consent to a truce if not
reconciliation. Patron saints accompany me in this adventure: the Medieval Italian painters, the avantgarde
painters of the XIX and XX centuries, the masters of illustration, comics and the street art.