Spots
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Ever since the beginning, the other parts also felt the broken charcoals and the diluted paint that was leaking on the canvas I was working on.
Any negligence, any bleeding transpires and I find it nice to try to figure out a hidden figurative that is below the folding of the white sheet – in which it sinks.
Sunk completely in the bathtub or, on the contrary, creating an opposition with it, I paint with the mind’s eyes what I lived recently. And this way, my canvases become a journal that is more honest that what I could write, since through me people and space may be glimpsed, the jostle of the world running towards peace is seen. They are all in my eyes.