"The picture is this: when the heart shrinks in the middle of the night brushes are shaken to the beat of a frenetic pace dictated by my hands, let it bleed onto the canvas, in the same way I look diluted in traffic in the city which speeds freeze movement moving bodies.
Sunrise and execution of the paintings still remains fresh in blood of the victims, dry the last cup of coffee in a hurry, the light passes through the small window of my studio, slowly illuminating light reaches the bodies that have to look far back, pleading for someone who has lost all hope. "
Sunrise and execution of the paintings still remains fresh in blood of the victims, dry the last cup of coffee in a hurry, the light passes through the small window of my studio, slowly illuminating light reaches the bodies that have to look far back, pleading for someone who has lost all hope. "
May 6, 2003
