Most of the days of this autumn I have been painting.
With the paintings I make till now I am searching for the letters of a pictorial alfabet. Something which might fit and match the experience of being in decorated prehistoric caves, or may be they will have to be put aside later. Sometimes I do recognise the influence of modern painters. Suddenly remember some works of Paul Klee, or Miro or others whose names didn't stay that clearly in my memory.
What is memory?
What is time?
When I study the history of our human race.
I am born out of this history. I embody this history. But what do I remember?
Memories as sensorial impressions woven together like a multidimensional cobweb.