“Love gets in the eyes and comes out in drops, more or less fragile.” These are words from Dali, my master. The sheets of paper are the object of my desire. This profession, quality of the body – to do, undo, scratch, touch and repeat – I do it “for nothing”.
I’m 50 years old, I search, I misstep, I’m not a photographer of the manner, nor a screener, nor anything, I have no technique apart from when I’m full of an idea, an impression, and even more of a state that I make an effort to become what I’m carrying.
I work with bits of nothing that don’t exist. It’s only when something makes sense and gathers these bits of nothing that I understand something exists. “