Painting could be something I can never fully understand, and that’s why it keeps attracting me.

Even the changing of a certain working way can be a form of destruction.

When I’m out there, and when I’m working on the canvas, there are things going wild out there.

But still, I stick to the principle of the necessity of sensation, or I would say, an irrational impulse that is almost like intuition, when making art. That’s the only thing that makes me feel it has to be there.

And intuition, I would say, also acts on the speed of my painting.

Then, what I gotta say about my reason to paint is that I’m really sick of this overstimulating image era. I want a force to feel things again, even if that feeling can be destructive. But I value feelings. More than that, I might be looking for attraction, intensity, and strong inner experience. The rough and hard senses are the only things that make sense to me at some point. I have a strong disgust to a lack of aliveness.

I genuinely don’t think time exists in a linear structure. I feel there’s some eagerness in me to connect with what’s dead in the past, as I believe the past will never die. Moreover, I think, in a poetic way, the past exists with the future. And that’s why we only get the present. Because they’re somewhere else.

At night, I feel that presence, from the illusions in the shadows.