Whilst adrift in an endless desert, I couldn’t keep the timeless space of this barren arid land at a distance. The unconventional mystic beauty and her organic chemistry were omnipresent.
I was drawn into it, an illusion becoming a reality, a riddle of a sphinx, and in return, I painted it.
Painting is a physical birth of imagination, a kinship resembling the sanctified character of the outback.
My adventure of painting, an old language, was a spiritual transfer of the soul. It was an expression of my ‘watch time’, a visual dialogue, where words were reflected in colours, thoughts became surfaces, memories drawn as graphic lines.
They were conceived through the transfiguration act of painting.