Gallery
From the apparent chaos, after drops, strokes and scratches, layer after layer, thought after thought.
The materialization of my emotions, mixed with the rhythm of the music and the words in the headphones.
How many songs have been painted on canvas like this?
The juicy colors that have soaked into them vibrate with energy into the space, and I laugh that if there was no final varnish, the whole thing would spill from the canvas around the room.
A never-ending process, at least for the night closed in a tube, when the head does not want to sleep.
Painting supplies - such an official-sounding name for silent witnesses of human internal dramas.
