At the beginning of the quarantine I was not very worried, my misanthropy, asociality and long painting sessions in the studio over the years have accustomed me to long periods at home. "What do I care !?" I said to myself, I'm used to do it, I have the studio right under the house, a thousand projects to think about and a thousand paintings to do. This time it's different, stayingat home to want to be there is different from having to stay there by force, added to the concerns of people around me and the omelette is made.
I already had material to work on, and material I wanted to focus on, new things, books, drafts to take inspiration from; in short, I just had to prepare the pieces of the puzzle before composing it calmly. Still, the more I try and the less I can't do it. The desire is not lacking, it is there, I feel it tightening my throat, crumpling my stomach, making my head smoke and it doesn’t make me sleep.
So what is missing?
I don't know exactly, not that piece is missing, and I think the more I think about it, the less I’ll find the answer.
So here it is, this quarantine for me is an immense "Art Project", where I have new projects ready and developed more dated projects. A little on my inseparable Mac and a little in my messed up head, but for better or for worse, all this is organized just like the folder in the drawing, ready for a double click, after having undergone a nice wrinkle.