I wish I had many hands, so that I could pick up many brushes and my thoughts wouldn't have to wait and grow old before they land on the canvas.

I would like to breathe in the magic air and breathe out patterns of colour, dark and light, bright and pale, shining in the sunlight and disappearing in the clouds.

Painting is a magical way to materialise what you see, feel or imagine.

Painting is freedom, full of the smell of paint, the thrilling anxiety of standing in front of the canvas. It is a question to oneself - do I have something to say, or perhaps more correctly - do I want to say something.

Painting is a chance to glide over fascinating surfaces or to painfully plumb the depths.

I love to watch the light caress the colour, it's endlessly fascinating and inspiring, and in the flower blossom the dance is particularly enchanting.

That's why I choose to paint, when I want to have many hands conducting the brushes on the canvas.