Photo by: IKKO
I am fascinated by images that surround me, that haunt me, in my studio. A torn piece of paper. A folded corner. An empty sketchbook. Blank pages, diaries or music sheets. Paper and pads in various hues: whites, yellows, soft greens and blues. A single red margin line must hold its own as it crosses a ruled page. As does an edge of the cardboard cover peeking out from under a mammoth sketchbook.
Autobiography (triptych) – 1974
Paper still without words, music sheets still without notes, canvas still without images – with their own space and mystery, with their shadows that cast spells on walls – are fragments of dreams: part of my daily life.