The Atelier is like a shell. The organism secretes its own shield. Just like the place or the way I create and work are so many ideoplastic projections of my world. Now I'm an oyster firmly on the rock, elaborating my pearl in the enclosure of an entirely internal universe, now I'm a snail that wanders around orchards and gardens and carries its shell with it. These are the two phases of my work: the permanent one and the migrant one. Each has its own modus operandi, but both draw nourishment from this VERY SECRET ROOM that I have lived in since my childhood and that has grown up with me.
Here, in this PLACE (not -space- as the distorted lexicon of the "contemporary" would say), surrounded by paintings and the extravagant objects of my personal wunderkammer (boites magiques, basilisks), I get ready to I leave and I always come back.
A place of memory (which has settled there for sixty years) but also overlooking the vast horizon of the exotic that awaits me on every new journey.
Here I create the paintings and sculptures; here my trusty daily sketchbooks are born, which gradually become diaries, projects and thoughts.
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