Sometimes I wake up in strange places with strange people drenched in the stink of yesterday's drink. The past night is like a grimy photo book, and I'm slowly flipping through its shameless pages in my mind. Somewhere between this intoxicated memory and sober clarity is where i find myself painting.
Human nature is so very close and yet so very alien to me. Destructive, sexual and animalistic behaviour is not strange to me. Everybody is probably familiar with this behaviour in some way, but what drives us -or at least me- towards it?
In search of my own truth, I find beauty in the grotesque and romance in the hopeless.
When flesh and bone turn into oil and pigment and when reality and dream seem to merge into one on my canvas, that's when I feel I can put human nature into place.