Art has always been present in my life in some way.

                                                               There, hidden, latent, almost as a supporting actor. Throughout time, it served me as a kind of therapy. Maybe a breath of fresh air.

                    And so it was, for many years.

                                          Something that helped me to complement myself, especially in times of anguish and suffering.

         Nowadays I believe I might perceive art differently.

Perhaps much more as a form of expression.


                                                        A way of trying, rather than finding an answer, to ask the necessary questions. At least necessary for me.

Or I see art as freedom.



               Maybe like water, which flows always and to all directions. And that, even if I try to dam it, at some point it will overflow...