I often find myself staring at something. I let my mind wonder and something else is suddenly superimposed on the picture. This is how most of my pieces are born. Sometimes I dream them, the images then return to my mind and I draw them on my Moleskine notbook to pin them down. It’s never definitive.
I have a carnal relationship with wood, it’s greed, pleasure and physical sensation, which is almost violent at times. Burning, hacking it with a chainsaw, hitting it with nails and chains, I explore the surface with my fingertips, feeling the surface beneath my fingers, whether it is smooth or rough. The touch is important to me, as is the fragrance. The colours are vital to me, as they generate an emotion that rises inside and which allows me to modify the many aspects of the wood. Overall I prefer strong warm and mellow hues.
What drives me is instinct, the emotion. I take a piece of wood and the first thing I do is look at it, trying to figure out where the shape is hiding inside. I observe the defects, I feel the cracks and the scars, to capture a feeling that I will use to tell its story. Simple, generous, flowing lines are those that I feel for the most. These are the lines that create the bond between me and the wood.
Count the rings on a piece of wood. That is how many years it has taken to produce it. Single out a line and wonder what happened. Wood is an impartial witness, it never lies. I avoid imposing myself on it, so mine is not the art of creation, but rather exposure.