The trigger to my creative process is a basic urge, a need, that I instinctively fulfil. I go hunting through piles of magazines from the 1950s to the 1980s and I gather, carve out, and tear pictures that literally grab my eye. The feel of old paper on my fingers, the smell of mildew and cardboard rising as I turn the pages and deep-dive into lost aesthetics...those hours spent cutting and arranging striking images are like a sensory meditation. It is very much like breathing for me. This is why I need to feel, touch, smell as I create. I do everything by hand using original vintage publications. All my tools and techniques are old-school analog, never digital. There is no such thing as virtual air.
Developing my personal style, I’ve stayed true to my trust in happy accidents and ironic silver linings. I discovered and developed my own decollage technique as I was tearing up papers in rage, coming back from a frustrating and unsuccessful workshop. Amongst the paper shreds, I saw an incredible composition, both ghost-like and vivid, one that started a story that I wanted to continue telling.
Compulsively, yet organically,
I assemble, deface old pictures, piecing together an entirely new one.
Just as I go through life, constructing and deconstructing myself. It’s as if, following my senses, I get to my otherwise elusive essence. The result can be weirdly beautiful, unsettling or anything in between, as my hands put together snapshots from my inner conversations, a fleeting mood, or of a meaningful change. It all just comes to me in the moment and I think this is what each piece captures, an instant of my inner state and conversation. When I look at my different series of the past years, I see a reflection of my evolution, self-destruction and reinvention as my inner contradictions and opposite sides come together as one in my art.