I paint because it is a matter of life or death. I paint because the rest for me is bull, except for love. I paint because I rather to be alone. I paint at the same time I breathe; therefore, if any technical doubt, I am a contemporary artist. And because my business is one of creativity, and my life is contemporary of The Origin, which, by the way, has not been found since it got lost. Time is an elastic and slippery material, as we all know.
I don't believe in fashion but I believe in the indefinite of art. This brushstroke that I am laying down now, is the same of an eternity ago, and the same that I am putting a minute later. I hear the sound of my voice in a dream that I forgot, I dream of a painting that noboby painted, but that exists just because. I wake up and I am the Installation of an avant-garde artist: "The Traditional Painter Wakes Up." This is my time, but is not my fault. I came just to do the same as before; to invent and to materialize, to swim in the same river that, thanks to Heraclito, is never the same river even if I jump in it from the very same rock.
For now, I am just sitting here in front of my easel, thinking of other times I rather be contemporary of, which makes my thought a contemporary one, though. I paint for the same incurable conviction for which someone painted a thousand years ago.