my first canvas was a wall, abandoned house, rail or road, my first painting was of spray. Then, after a long period spent in the classroom / study, obtained the certificate, instead of chasing the circuit of clubs, I took the road bewitched by the lure of the crowd varied and uneven where each meeting is possible, where it's nice to perform, to test themselves, listen to blunt, simple words without circumlocution and offered as a means, anonymous figure, form.
This is the tenth season in which they will practice the ancient craft of pavement artist, which will stand between your feet, get in the way your eyes look compulsively with objects, bodies to want to acquire, own. The pavement is my canvas and my colors will disappear soon. And perhaps someone (an adult is difficult) that someone has yet to face painted in vivid hues of terror, will enjoy a forms before correction fluid, without nostalgia, without mediation or postpone a single click.
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